Journey Home
by crafty jack rabbit
Summary: Hermione and Ron embark on a journey to find Harry after he went missing a year ago. As they try to uncover the mystery behind Harry's disappearance, a dark force rises to claim Voldemort's place. A Harmony fanfic. R & R por favor.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own them but I sure do love 'em.

**Act I: Journey Home  
**

**Chapter 1**

To keep a long story short, the world, the wizarding world at least, did not change very much after the defeat of Lord Voldemort. Well, the world didn't change that much to Hermione Granger. The months following Voldemort's death were filled with extravagant parties, especially at Hogwarts. However, after the summer passed, life continued and people moved on, and so did she.

Despite missing the majority of the school year, Hermione graduated and managed pass her N.E.W.T.s with "Outstanding" marks, something rarely achieved. After leaving Hogwarts, she was given a position at the Ministry of Magic. She accepted a job at the Misuses of Muggle Artefacts Office as Arthur Weasley's assistant due to her experience and knowledge of the muggle world, even though it was awkward for the obvious reasons.

Not everyone adjusted properly to the quiet life unfortunately. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, her best friend, and hero of the wizard world, was one of those people. Harry applied for the Auror apprenticeship like Ron Weasley and the other graduates, and was immediately accepted into the program. Life seemed to return to normal for Harry, but something had changed after the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione knew he didn't miss the spotlight; on the contrary, he loathed it.

After he started his training, he grew incredibly distant and pushed everyone away. He even pushed Ginny Weasley away, which caused her to break off their relationship. Harry didn't appear to care and just kept working. Hermione attempted to reconnect with her best friend, but she could never get a hold of him. He refused to answer her owls, and he was never at the Ministry, despite the fact that Kingsley Shacklebot was his mentor.

Before finishing his Auror apprenticeship, Harry resigned from the program and left London without notice. Hermione wanted to pursue him so she could convince him to stay. However, Harry was already missing by the time she learned about his resignation. Hermione Granger, the smartest girl around, failed to keep another relationship together.

* * *

"Hermione," Arthur called out from his office, waking Hermione from her daydream. She rubbed her eyes and looked down at the _Daily Prophet_ that was on her lap. The front-page article was laid out. The article was about Ron's training and his promotion to Auror a month ago. She continued to scan the paper, and her stomach churned when she noticed a small quip about Harry. The writer expressed disgust for Harry and claimed that their _hero_ suffered a mental breakdown that resulted in his disappearance a year ago. It was lie. It had to be. Then she heard Arthur call out for her again.

"Coming, sir," Hermione replied as she placed the newspaper on her cluttered desk. "What is it?" She opened the partially opened door to Arthur's office, but remained in the doorway.

"What is this?" Arthur lifted up a small electric device in the air, meeting his assistant's eyes. She looked at it and then at her boss. Even though Arthur was one of the smartest wizards she knew, he still didn't know everything. Then again, neither did she.

"It's an electric razor, Mr. Weasley," Hermione answered him. Arthur brought it close to his face and pressed the small button near the bottom of the electric razor. It turned on. The old man with fire-red hair squealed and dropped the vibrating razor. It landed hard on his wooden desk and began to move across it.

"I've seen some crazy things in my life," Arthur said, mostly to himself. "But this thing is certainly intriguing. It's supposed to shave a muggle man's face, correct?" He lowered his head to the desk and watched the razor travel along his desk. It was excruciating painful to watch and Hermione had to act to make it stop. The soft pounding of the razor against the wooden desk was unpleasant and irritating. Before the razor reached the edge of the desk, Hermione picked up the electronic device and turned it off.

"Is that all, sir?" Hermione asked with her eyebrow raised, and she wasn't trying to hide her annoyance and frustration. He looked up at her with the demeanor of a child and nodded. Arthur rarely acted like a grown man whenever he found a new toy. He was more like a child on Christmas day when he examined muggle "artefacts." Hermione sighed and returned to her desk. She picked up the _Daily Prophet_ and tossed it in the trashcan next to her.

* * *

Hermione found it difficult to open the door of her flat. Whenever it was cold and rained like this, the iron hinges always refused to budge. She pulled out her wand, looked up and down the hallway, and used a little magic to force the door open. When she entered her apartment, she saw a small owl perched at her window, tapping on the window with his beak.

It was Pigwidgeon and looked as wet and miserable as she did. She carefully lifted up the window seal to let the wet owl in. He shook his small wings to alleviate his body from the cold rainwater. Hermione smiled and took the small scroll that was tied to his leg. She used her wand as a light source and rolled open the small parchment:

_Hermione,_

_We need to talk._

_Ron_

Hermione half smiled and softly stroked the top of Pig's head. The small owl hooted cheerfully and flew out the window. She watched him take flight, wishing she were the owl, and closed the window. Maybe the world had changed after all.

* * *

The Ministry seemed different when Hermione arrived the following day. The atmosphere had drastically changed from yesterday and it put her on edge. Everyone appeared to be walking with certain urgency. She then noticed Neville Longbottom walking across the circular lobby, passing the giant statue of Albus Dumbledore. He was fully dressed in his Auror robes. Her friend had grown quite a bit since their time at Hogwarts. Even though he still seemed out of place in her eyes, she couldn't help herself and admire the way he carried himself.

"Longbottom," Hermione shouted from across the lobby. Neville stopped immediately and looked around for the voice that called out to him frantically. Hermione smiled when all the poise and powerful demeanor that Neville displayed had melted away. In the end, he was still the boy she grew up with. She ran over to Neville and hugged him, despite his protests.

"Hey, Hermione," Neville muttered. He was sweating.

"Hello, Neville." With the pleasantries over, Hermione decided to take control of the conversation. "What's going on?" Neville didn't answer however. Instead, he looked around and searched the crowd for someone that wasn't there.

"Come with me," Neville grabbed her arm and dragged her with him.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked, trying to keep up with her friend's long strides.

"No time to explain," he responded without turning to her. They walked up to a large iron door and Neville pulled out his wand. He tapped the knob of the door and it turned. The bolt of the door's lock clicked and Neville pulled it open. Hermione walked in first with Neville behind her.

Then she realized where she was: the Auror meeting room. It was a strange thing to see. The room was almost as big as the lobby near the main entrance. There were two circuits of tables and chairs. The inside row was occupied by Minister Shacklebot and other Ministry officials, including veteran and seasoned Aurors. The outside row was relatively empty except for a few Aurors, none of whom she knew. Most of the younger members were out on missions. Neville nodded to Hermione and led her to a seat along the second circuit.

"What's going on?" whispered Hermione.

"The world's coming to an end," a voice came from behind them, causing Hermione to jump. She turned around and saw it was Ron. He was dressed in robes that were similar to Neville's, but it was obvious he didn't care as much about his attire. His robes were muddy, probably picked up from his training, but that meant he hadn't washed them lately. However, that wasn't his only problem, or the real one. Ron took a seat next to Hermione and scooted the chair closer to her.

"How are you doing?" Ron asked her. Hermione wasn't in the mood and didn't want to talk to him, but she knew she had to.

"Fine," responded Hermione. One word. It was the easiest way to answer his question without giving any details.

"That's it? 'Fine.'" He pressed. "We haven't spoken for over half a year and that's call you can say to me?"

"What is there left to say?" Hermione hissed. Neville looked at both with a serious expression on his face and they immediately stopped bickering.

"This isn't a joke," said Neville. Hermione felt her heart sink; she allowed her personal feelings to get in the way again.

"I know, I'm sorry," she apologized. She leaned in towards Neville, not to only hear him better, but to also create a bigger gap between her and Ron.

"No, not that. I mean, Ron shouldn't be joking about this," Neville muttered.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Okay. The truth is: we're in trouble," Ron replied for Neville. She turned to him, but didn't say anything. However, Hermione didn't say anything when she looked at him, she wasn't looking into the eyes of a jerk, but into the eyes of an Auror.

"How are we in trouble?" Hermione was being completely sincere.

"We just received reports about an attack in Annan, Scotland." Neville whispered, he tried to keep his composure, but he couldn't hide the slight vibrato in his voice. She looked at Ron for agreement and he nodded.

"An attack that involved magic?" It was obvious, but she had to be sure. There have been no reports of a magical attack since the death of Lord Voldemort, but that didn't mean they didn't happen. It had been a relatively quiet year for the Aurors.

"Five dead, four of them muggles." Neville's face was now pale and there was no hiding his fear. It wasn't same kind of fear that Neville once possessed when it came to taking tests. It was real fear in his eyes.

"There was nothing in the _Prophet,_" if was recent, she would have read about it, let alone hear about it from Arthur.

"It's because we want everyone to think it was a random accident." Ron was the first to answer.

"Why? That doesn't make any sense," said Hermione.

"Look," Neville grabbed her attention. "The Ministry wants to keep a lid on this for now. Under the circumstances, we don't want to start a panic when there doesn't need to be one. So, we're attributing the deaths to a random accident."

"What kind of random accident?" They didn't answer her immediately. She stared at Neville and ten looked at Ron. Neither of them refused to meet her eyes. "What kind of random accident?"

"Look, I don't like it anymore than you do," Ron tried to defend the Ministry.

"Tell me the truth," Hermione wasn't going to listen to any of it. She had enough of the cloak and dagger nonsense. It was the world of Aurors and she didn't want any real part of it.

"A bridge collapsed," Ron muttered.

"A muggle witness claimed to have seen two men fighting with 'sticks.' One of the men was the victim and the other was wearing a white mask." Neville gave her the straight answer that she wanted. "She said that there was a bright flash of light and part of bridge was gone."

"A white mask?" Hermione felt her stomach churn and the small hairs of the back of her neck rose. "Like Death Eaters?" Ron shook his head, a small wave of relief washed over her.

"We think it's a new group," Neville took away the safety net that she landed on.

"And that's all we know," replied Ron before she could probe for more answers. Before anything else could be said, Hermione quickly left the room. She ran for the bathrooms, pushing and shoving anyone that got in her way. When she got into the bathroom, she pulled out her wand. With a flick of her wand, the stall doors opened instantly, revealing no one was in them. She turned around to face the door and locked it with a swish.

"Harry," Hermione muttered as she collapsed against the locked door. She wasn't exactly crying, but tears rolled down her face. Maybe she was having her own mental breakdown. She missed Hogwarts, she missed her parents, and she missed her best friend. The young witch longed for her time at Hogwarts. She pulled out a small brag book from her purse and flipped through the pictures of her family and friends. Life wasn't so simple and innocent anymore.

Hermione stopped on a picture of Harry and her at a party in the Gryffindor Tower at Hogwarts. It was kind of a funny. The night before was one of the worst nights of her life, yet she was having such fun in the picture. It was one of the few magical pictures she had. The picture displayed Harry and Hermione hugging each other tightly, swaying from side to side. It was as if they were dancing.

* * *

"Harry, stop moving, you're going to make me sick," Hermione giggled. Her face was flustered; her speech was slurred; and her dress was disheveled. Harry, on the other hand, was still relatively sober, except his suit was in no better condition. They noticed the photographer standing in front of him and quickly smiled for the picture. Harry soon released her after the photographer walked away.

"Lets sit down," Harry smiled and led his drunk friend to an unoccupied couch. He sat down first and she fell onto him, snuggling against his shoulder. She was slightly drooling but Harry didn't care. However, he didn't attempt to hide his amusement neither.

"Oh, I should take a picture right about now, it'd be beautiful," Hermione instantly sat up, making sure there was no one around with a camera.

"Oh, don't joke like that." She resumed her original position on the couch. Ron walked over to them and sat next to Harry. Even though he retained the majority of his motor functions, he, too, was drunk. He sat up to check on Hermione and then fell back into the couch.

"What a party," Ron shouted. The young wizard wasn't speaking to anyone directly, but the students around them cheered in unison and took a swig of their respective drinks.

"You okay?" Harry joked. Ron nodded and got off the couch.

"I'll be right back," Ron smiled and walked off. Harry watched him for a moment and realized he wouldn't be coming back for a while. Ron was now walking in a circle.

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered to himself.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. She was half asleep.

"Oh, nothing," replied Harry.

"No, what are you sorry for?" Hermione was still resting against him, but she was now awake and was sobering up. Harry didn't respond to her question but tightened his arm that was wrapped around her.

* * *

Hermione stared deeply into the bathroom mirror. She always wondered what Harry meant by that and regretted her lack of confidence to push the subject. Maybe if she had asked him, she might have been able to stop the deterioration of their friendship. She leaned closer to the mirror and wiped the smeared eyeliner with a wet towel. The young witch then picked up her wand from the sink counter and applied a light layer of make up on her face. After gathering herself belongings, she opened the bathroom door.

Standing on the other side of the doorway were Ron and Neville. It was apparent that they had followed her, but neither dared to open the door. Nor could they since they feared she put a hex on the knob, and they were right. Despite their fear, she was touched by their concern.

"I'm fine, you guys," said Hermione.

"Are you sure?" Neville wasn't convinced, but he didn't press her any further.

"The bloody hell you are," Ron on the other hand was rash and abrasive. Not a befitting quality she was fond of when they were together.

"Look, I'm sorry," Hermione searched her mind for a response. Then it hit her. It was a solution to all of her problems, and theirs. "I'm leaving."

"What?" they asked together.

"I'm going to look for Harry Potter." She froze. Did she just say that out loud? There was a moment of complete silence between the three of them.

"Harry?" Neville was the first to speak.

"Yes," Hermione replied reluctantly. "I'm going to look for Harry."

"Neville, I think you should go," said Ron. Before Neville could respond, Ron pushed him out of the way and forced Hermione back into the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione.

"I should be asking you the same thing." Ron began to pace back and forth, his hands on his hips, as he tried to figure out his next move. He hadn't heard that name for almost a year. Harry, his best friend, had disappeared without a word and left him to take the reigns.

Ron was heavily scrutinized after Harry went on the lamb. People didn't only question Ron about Harry, but wondered about his abilities as a potential Auror. Ron even wondered if he had what it took to become an Auror. Was he riding of the coattails of success that Harry left behind him? No. No he wasn't. Ron was a good wizard, if not a great one. At least, that's what he told himself after he passed his training. Despite the fact it took him longer to finish his apprenticeship than the others, he was even beat out by Neville, he became an Auror. He was worth something.

"I'm coming with you," were the next words to come out of Ron's mouth. He stopped moving and waited for Hermione to respond. She was just standing there. A mixture of shock and confusion was on her face. "What?"

"You're coming with me?" That's all she could say.

"What? Do I hear an echo in here?" His response wasn't any better.

"First, you question my decision," Hermione was the first to figure out what she wanted to say. "And now you want to come with me?"

"Yes, do you have a problem with that?" asked Ron.

"A little bit. I do." Hermione was being completely honest and Ron knew it.

"Look, you're going to need help looking for Harry." Ron was right. "And I just might know where he is."

"Where?"

"Meet me at King's Cross in a few hours," said Ron and left the bathroom quickly. Hermione was at a lost for words.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the story so far. I'm sorry if there's any confusion at the moment, but a lot of the plot holes will be addressed in later chapters. Please review and thank you again for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Hermione stood in front of the main entrance to King's Cross train station, tapping her foot impatiently on the concrete sidewalk. Ron was late and she was not happy. Not wanting to wait around in the cold, Hermione turned around and entered the train station. The train station was relatively busy for lunch, but that didn't surprise her. She could tell people were getting ready for the holidays.

There was an empty bench next to the doors and she decided to read the most recent issue of the _Daily Prophet_. Before opening the newspaper, she took a moment to look around the station. It had changed significantly over the past few years. Several walls were covered with cheap plywood and plastic sheets. The city was renovating the entire place. Hermione was overcome with a strong feeling of nostalgia as she watched her childhood disappear in front of her eyes.

"Hi," Ron greeted her as he entered the train station. Hermione looked up at him, shoved the paper back into her bag, and didn't bother with the pleasantries. He was late and she wasn't happy. She didn't want to bother with the "heys" and hellos."

"Well?" Hermione asked. Ron rolled his eyes and started walking towards the south side of the station. They passed several platforms, even Platform 9, before reaching the end of King's Cross. In the back of the station was a small hallway that led to a dead end.

"Are you going to stay mad at me forever?" Ron muttered.

"I don't know," Hermione replied. "Are you going to be a jerk forever?"

"I don't even know how to respond to that," Ron growled. He stopped when they reached the end of the hallway. Hermione was confused at first because the wall was made of brick while the rest of the walls were composed of tile and plaster. Ron looked behind them to make sure no one was watching before he made his move. The Auror pulled out his concealed wand from his overcoat and touched the brick wall. It began to collapse on itself and opened up a secret hallway behind the wall. It made her think of the entrance of Diagon Alley.

"I'm sorry," Hermione admitted. "Maybe I've been a little of a jerk myself." She followed him down the bricked passage. The decorations on the walls brought a bright smile to her face. It reminded her of Hogwarts. There were paintings of different witches and wizards hung along the hallway. Each of them would wink, smile, and even wave at her when she walked by. It was as if they knew her and they were reuniting with her after being apart for so long.

"Oh, a little?" Ron laughed as they headed down a flight of stairs. He wasn't being mean; she could hear the playful tone in his voice. When they reached the end of the hallway, she froze in the archway. The sight of the underground train station stunned her. She couldn't believe that such a thing existed under King's Cross without her knowledge. Platform 9 ¾ was small in comparison, but she didn't have time to digest it.

"The train's leaving," Ron shouted as he ran for a black train that was starting to move. Hermione screamed, out of anger and excitement, as she chased after the both of them. The Auror was the first to make it onto the train as it began to pick up speed. He spun around and held out his hand. She grabbed it quickly and jumped on when the train's horn blared as it left the station platform.

* * *

"We need to find a seat." Hermione made her way down the aisle of the train car. The seats were filled with a variety of witches and wizards from different worlds than her own. A few of them were dressed in their wizardry robes, while others resembled the everyday muggle. And a couple of them, well, they weren't wearing much at all. It was a weird but interesting thing to see, the full train car, not the two wizards in loin clothes.

The seats were not the only things that were occupied. She had to make a conscious effort not to step on anything valuable that lay about on the floor. At the end of the train car, she found a pair of empty seats. Hermione took the one along the aisle while Ron sat next to the window.

"Want some?" Ron asked and took out a thermal from his bag. He pulled out his wand and pressed the tip of it against the bottom of the thermal. Steam began to rise from the opened thermal as he heated up the tea.

"No thanks." said Hermione as she pretended to peruse her bag.

"I may have lied, a little," Ron muttered. He took a sip from his tea and hissed when the hot liquid burned his tongue. Hermione would have scolded him for doing such a stupid thing, but what he said grabbed her attention. She looked at him, but he refused to meet her eyes. He pretended something outside was more interesting.

"Lied? Lied about what, exactly?" Even though the thrill of going on another adventure had filled her up, it didn't mean her ears stopped working.

"Well, I don't know where Harry is," Ron smiled softly. However, his smile wouldn't get him out of this one, it rarely did.

"You don't know what?" Hermione shouted, drawing the attention of almost everyone in the train. Everyone went quiet for a second, hoping to eavesdrop on their conversation. "Was I talking to you?" She turned around in her seat and glared at them. The witches and wizards tried to avoid her gaze and started talking amongst themselves.

"Look, I don't know where he is." Ron explained himself. Hermione immediately raised her index finger into the air in front of his face, silencing him. His eyes went cross-eyed as he focused in on that singular point.

"Then why are we on this train, Ronald?" He recognized the angry tone in her voice.

"We're going to meet a contact of mine," Ron said as he noticed Hermione was beginning to pull out her respective wand. She hesitated and squinted, trying to read him.

"A contact?" She slowly put her wand back into her bag. Ron couldn't help but let out a deep breathe when he realized she was no longer on the offensive.

"Yes, his name is Logan," replied Ron.

"Where's this Logan?" Hermione asked.

"He's at Province, we'll be there in a few hours," he answered her. Satisfied with his response, Hermione returned to her bag and pulled out her crumpled copy of the _Daily Prophet_. She opened it up and began to scan the different stories the journalists reported. After a few minutes of reading, she gave up.

"And who is he?" Hermione needed to know more about this mysterious man.

"He's a friend of mine, well not a friend," Ron thought out loud. "I've never met him actually." Hermione almost smacked herself in the forehead but decided punching Ron was the better alternative. So she did. She formed a firm fist and punched him in the shoulder. Ron howled in pain, but no one paid him any attention. "Damn, Hermione. You punch like a bludger."

"You've never met him?" Hermione hissed. "Then how can you trust him?"

"During my apprenticeship, we had to build contacts that we could later use when we became Aurors. Nine months ago, Logan contacted me by owl. We started a correspondence and then before you know it, he was one of my contacts."

"You realize how stupid that sounds?" Hermione wanted to punch him again but she held back her rage, if only for a moment.

"Logan wrote to me about Harry. He saw him in Province." Ron said quickly when he saw Hermione tightening her fist up again. However, when she heard this, her hand went limp.

"How did he know you and Harry are friends?"

"After we broke up, I needed someone to talk to. I needed to talk to Harry," Ron began. Hermione's heart sunk when he mentioned their break, but she forced herself to continue listening. "So I sent an owl to all my contacts about his whereabouts. Maybe they had met with him by some coincidence."

"And Logan said he met Harry?"

"No, there was no formal meeting. But I figured if we're going to start somewhere, it might as well be Province." Then there was a long silence between them. The train car was filled with people talking and laughing, babies crying, and the sound of the wheels on the tracks below. It was peaceful.

"Ron?" Hermione decided to break the awkward silence between them. "I'm sorry." That's all she could say. That's all she could think of to say, but she had to address the situation between them. It wasn't fair to Ron and it wasn't fair to her. The air needed to be cleared if they were going to work together again and they couldn't be at each other's throat if they were to find Harry.

"About what?" Ron asked. He wasn't picking up on her signals, he rarely did.

"I'm sorry about how things ended between us," Hermione explained. She then saw Ron's face change as he digested her words. He swallowed hard and thought long about what he was going to say.

"I'm sorry too," said Ron. "I didn't handle things well. I was so stressed about becoming an Auror that I was blinded to your problems."

"But the way things happened, I wasn't very fair," Hermione replied.

"It's okay, neither was I," Ron took her hand into his. "The past is the past. I think the best thing for both of us is to move on." He squeezed her hand gently and let it go. Hermione smiled softly and looked down at the newspaper on her lap. Even though she expected a shouting match to occur between the two of them, she was happy with the results. Then she thought about a certain someone.

"So, how's Ginny?" she asked. Ron jumped and almost dropped his thermal. But that didn't stop him from spilling his tea all over himself. Before he could pull out his wand, Hermione had hers out at the ready. With a flick of her want, the tea evaporated instantly. "Something on your mind?" She smiled and waited for a response.

"I'm guessing my father didn't tell you," Ron replied. Hermione shook her head, a big smile still on her face. "She eloped with Dean Thomas two months ago!" He dropped his head in shame. Ron was obviously not happy with her decision to marry Dean, but he wasn't fond of her being single either because that meant she was still pining over Harry. He couldn't win.

"I mean, at least she's happy. It could be worse, she could be with Malfoy," Hermione attempted to comfort him.

"She's pregnant!" Ron cried out. This time he got the attention of everyone in the train car. They all turned to look at him and Hermione.

"No, not me," Hermione assured the crowd. "I mean we were together, but not anymore. He's talking about his little sister actually." They all stared at her for a second and returned to their own business. She laughed, obviously fake, and gave Ron her full attention. "How? When?"

"How?" Ron cried again. "Do you want me to draw a picture for you?"

"No, that's okay, sorry." Hermione laughed.

"She told mum a few weeks ago. I can't believe it…" Ron started to gag.

"Wait, she's only…" She tried to do the math, but even she was having problems due to the mental images.

"Eighteen! I know." Ron shook his fists into the air. "She only graduated from Hogwarts a few months ago…"

"Well, that's interesting." She didn't know what to say. What was there to say? Hermione wanted to do nothing but laugh, but that wasn't the smart move right now. And she wanted to avoid exciting Ron into a frenzy.

"It's horrible," he buried his face into his hands, she could barely understand him.

"At least you'll be an uncle." Hermione tried to find the silver lining, and she found it. Ron lifted up his face, he face displaying the realization of this new fact.

"I'm going to be an uncle," he muttered to himself, Ron was in complete awe. "I'm going to be an uncle!" This time he raised his arms into the air and cheered, but no one acknowledged his happiness. They only seemed to be interested in the drama.

"Are you okay?" Hermione chuckled. Ron nodded and sat back down, breathing heavily due to the rush of exciting. There was a sparkle in his eye, something she hadn't seen in a very long time.

"Yeah," Ron smiled. "I'm good." He turned his head towards window and noticed the train was approaching their destination.

* * *

Hermione exited the train station of Province first, with Ron clunking behind her. They stood a few feet outside of the double doors and engulfed the view of the small village before them. The best word to describe the town was: strange. It resembled Hogsmeade in architecture by varying degrees, but the popular was something different. Hermione couldn't help but notice the number of muggles walking around. They weren't witches and wizards dressed for work in the city, but actual muggles. And the muggles appeared completely unfazed by the amount of magic that occurred around them.

"Where are we, again? It's just… I feel so out of place," Hermione wanted to be sure. It was like walking into a childhood book that her mother used to read to her at night.

"It's Province," Ron assured her.

"How can you be sure? You've never been here before," Hermione mentioned under her breath.

"You don't have to remind me," Ron hung his head in defeat. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "Come on, it's time we go and meet Logan." He led her down the busy street that went directly through the village. The small town seemed to congregate around this street. Ron pulled out a small piece of parchment from his bag and unrolled it. Before he could read it, Hermione pulled it out of his hands and read it for herself:

_Ronald,_

_I'm glad to learn you're coming to Province, old friend. You can find me at the Owl Barn. It is small bar off the main street of the city. I'll be drinking butterbeer and reading an issue of _The Quibbler_. By the way, have you ever read this amazing newspaper? It has some very compelling articles._

_Logan_

Hermione halted when she finished reading the message. Ron stopped and turned around to hear what she had to say. He waited for the worst.

"Are you sure about Logan?" Hermione asked, not as bad as he expected.

"Yeah, why?" Ron responded.

"He reads _The Quibbler_," Hermione argued.

"So. They've published some very interesting stories lately." Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed the letter into Ron's chest. She continued walking down the street, ignoring his pleas of confidence. After a couple of blocks, they came up to a giant, wooden door with "OWL BARN" burned into it.

"Here we are," Hermione muttered. Ron nodded and opened the door for them. The Owl Barn was exactly what the sign on door read. It was an owl barn, but had bar built along the wall and the rest of the empty space on the floor was filled with tables and chairs. Above them, several owls were perched on beams hanging above them. Despite the smell and lack of visual aesthetics, the Owl Barn had a strange charm to it.

"There he is," Ron pointed out a man sitting in the back of the bar. He was dressed in a brown cloak that covered the majority of his body. A pint of butterbeer, which was half full with a bent straw, sat on the corner of the table. His feet were also up on the table, a pet peeve of Hermione's. However, she couldn't see his face since _The Quibbler_ he was reading covered it. They carefully crossed the bar. Ron made sure to check out every person in the bar, a mixture of muggles and wizards. Hermione did the same, but kept most of her focus on Logan.

"Hello, Logan?" Ron stuck his hand out to shake. "I'm Ronald Weasley."

"Nice to finally meet you," Logan said as he lowered _The Quibbler_. Ron and Hermione jumped back drawing their wands when they saw Logan's face. Instead of a face behind _The Quibbler_, they found a white mask with a black "V" painted across it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Hermione had her wand of dragon heartstring pointed at the man in the white mask. The Owl Barn went completely silent. Ron surveyed the barn and saw a variety of weapons pointed at him and Hermione, a few he'd never seen before. Some of them wielded wands while others carried guns and blunt objects of different shapes and sizes. Hermione ignored the cold sweat he was developing. So Ron slightly nudged her in the side to get her attention. The young witch turned her head and noticed the predicament they were now in.

"Whoa, whoa," Logan shouted. His hands were up in the air, not as a sign of surrender, but to deescalate the situation. The bar patrons looked at Logan for guidance and then the old bartender, Martha, whom was standing behind the bar. A few of them settled down in their seats while others refused to let down their guard.

"Put yer wands down," Martha shouted from across the barn. "Yer may have wands but they can't stop my buckshot." Even though she was a muggle, Hermione was still very afraid of the shotgun she holding firmly in her hands.

"It's okay Martha," Logan interrupted. Martha grimaced, but gave in and nodded to the other patrons. Ron and Hermione didn't feel any safer when they placed their respective weapons away. Then the duo turned their attention to the wizard wearing the mask, their wands still drawn. "You don't need those."

"What's with the mask?" Hermione growled.

"Not yet," said Logan. "First let us enjoy a pint of warm butterbeer. Please, sit. Don't make me suggest twice." Hermione and Ron shared a look and took the chars opposite of the masked wizard. While Ron placed his wand into his pocket, Hermione kept hers out, under the table. Logan raised his hand, holding two fingers up.

"What is this place?" Ron asked, trying to figure anything out.

"It's the Owl Barn." Logan answered. Martha walked over to the table holding a tray of two butterbeers. She placed them on the table without looking and walked away in a matter of seconds. Ron took the opportunity to drink the warm butterbeer, and since it was free: it was tastier. Hermione ignored the beverage and examined Logan.

"Why are you wearing that mask?" the young witch pushed. Hermione didn't care, she needed answers and she was going to get them.

"Didn't I say—" he began.

"Answer the question," Hermione demanded. Logan paused and stared at her, or at least that's what she thought he was doing. The eyeholes of the mask were circular and the lighting in the barn created shadows that covered his eyes, but she could feel them on her, looking into her soul.

"First put away the wand," Logan ordered in a serious tone. It a sent a cold shiver down Hermione's spine. Ron was too occupied with drinking his butterbeer to notice her discomfort. The young witch conceived to Logan's order and placed her wand into her bag. "That's better. And by the way, you never told me your name."

"It's Hermione Granger." She answered quickly.

"Herm-Own-Ninny?" Logan chuckled.

"Excuse me," Hermione growled. She tried to stand up but Ron grabbed her shoulders to keep her back, almost knocking his pint over. The young witch shot him an angry glance and he let go of her immediately.

"I was just joking." Logan laughed. "Please, settle down." Hermione looked at him and then Ron. She took a deep breath to calm herself and sat back into the chair.

"Why are you wearing the mask?"

"I've spent the past few months infiltrating this organization known as the Vanguard," said Logan. "I've been forced into wearing this stupid mask as apart of my initiation into the group." He paused for a moment to pick his butterbeer. "Can't remove it either, they put a curse on it. Only they can take it off. When I pass their tests, the 'V' is to turn a light grey to symbolize my acceptance into the group. They're a very weird bunch if you ask me." The masked wizard pressed the thumb and index finger of his right hand against the bottom of the mask. He pushed up, used leverage to create an opening, and guided the straw into his mouth with his left hand.

"Vanguard?" Ron had finished his butterbeer and was back in the conversation.

"The Aurors know about the attack in Scotland?" Hermione and Ron didn't respond. But Logan knew they were aware of the incident. "They're responsible for at least six attacks this year that I know of."

"I thought Scotland was the only one."

"Oh, right. Just because it didn't happen in Britain means it didn't happen anywhere else?" Logan laughed and finished his beverage. "Look, the wizarding world doesn't end at the shores of the British Isles. I'm positive you two know that." Then he stood up.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked.

"It's time to go," Logan said and started walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Ron demanded.

"To a place with deaf ears," he chimed. "Aren't you coming?" Hermione and Ron exchanged confused looks and chased after him. Before they reached the door Logan stopped and turned around. In that instant, he grabbed both their hands.

* * *

The forest was cold due to a new layer of snow that covered the ground. It was light and thin, but the cloud cover helped keep the temperature down. The cold crept silently through their bodies as they registered the winter weather. Hermione pulled out a scarf from her bag and wrapped it tightly around her neck and covered her ears while Ron relied on rubbing his arms and hands together to keep warm.

"Where are we?" Ron asked, his teeth chattering. His body was now shaking uncontrollably.

"I'll explain later. I can only answer so many questions at one time." Logan responded as he pulled out a wool blanket out of his shoulder pack. He tossed to Ron to warm his body. Logan turned his back against them and started walking up the hill. Hermione and Ron were forced to follow. "The Vanguard may be new to Britain, but they're not to the rest of the wizarding world."

"But why now?" Ron was now trying to blow warm air into his cupped hands.

"Because Voldemort is gone," Hermione guessed.

"Exactly," Logan smiled. At least Hermione imagined he was smiling by the tone in his voice. "With You-Know-Who out of the picture, it's time for a new bad guy to take the spot light in Britain."

"Should we be afraid?" It was a dumb question and Ron was the only one to ask it.

"I don't know. Do you bleed?" Logan chuckled. "Of course. The Vanguard is composed of very dangerous and fanatical wizards and witches. They may not be as powerful as the Dark Lord, but they're more methodical and calculating."

"I don't follow," Ron muttered.

"I figured you wouldn't. Please Ronald, keep up. The Vanguard aren't about instilling fear or setting up puppet governments through coups. They prefer to be more stealth. They don't want to be seen or noticed. Members have been planted throughout the Ministry and even in offices of muggle governments. The members are also loyal and they don't have to rely on the Imperius Curse. A servant willing to die for the cause is much more dangerous."

"Do you know how many members are there?" Hermione wondered.

"No. I've met a few, but I'd be lying if I said I knew." He looked back at them, sharing their dissatisfaction with his answer. Logan paused for a brief moment and turned his head to the east. With a fist, he signaled them to stop. There was nothing. At least they couldn't see or hear anything except for the ambient sounds of the forest.

"You told Ron you saw Harry?" Hermione asked about her best friend. With the silence broken, they continued up the hill.

"Have you heard of Winter's Crest?" the masked wizard asked. Hermione glanced over at Ron, neither of them knew of the town. Ron just shrugged and Hermione shook her head, even though Logan couldn't see them. But their silence was a good enough response. "Well, that's where your friend, Harry Potter, was headed." This time the look Hermione and Ron shared was one of happiness and excitement.

"Where is Winter's Crest?" Ron asked immediately.

"We're about a day's hike from the village, actually," said Logan. "Unfortunately, the town is protected, so no apparating. And someone cast an invisibility charm over the damn thing too. So only those who've been there know where it is."

"Does that mean you've been there before?"

"Duh. At least, I hope I remember."

"Do you know if Harry's still there?" Hermione inquired.

"No idea. I haven't been there in months and I only saw Harry at Province." Hermione felt colder after his response. She was afraid that this might be a wild goose chase, but she needed answers.

* * *

They decided to make camp in a small opening along the trees. It was already nighttime and according to Logan: they were a few hours' trek from the village. The fire they built was small but it gave off enough heat to warm their bodies. Logan was trying to drink from a flask, the contents of the small tin smelled like butterbeer, while Ron lay on the ground, half asleep and wrapped in the wool blanket.

Hermione couldn't bother with sleep; she was too cold to let her rest. Instead, spent the night trying to read the_ Daily Prophet_. Her body was completely frozen from head to toe, but she wouldn't shiver. Her bones felt like they were made of glass. Her legs were numb from the layer of snow beneath the wool blanket. Her hands and arms were like goose skin but the small fire kept them relatively warm. Steam slowly rose from her mouth as she breathed out.

"It's not as good as _The Quibbler_," Logan said as he managed to get the opening of the flask under the mask. Hermione lifted her head from the newspaper with an eyebrow cocked, but didn't answer him. She merely watched the masked wizard struggle with the flask in vain. "_The Quibbler_ at least has something interesting to say." The young witch looked back down at the picture she was hiding with the _Daily Prophet_. It was the same picture of her and Harry swaying at the party.

"Why did you join the Vanguard?" Hermione asked.

"If I wasn't going to do it, who would?" He responded. "What? You think I joined them because I wanted to? I may be a little crazy, but I'm not… stupid."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to question your motives," she answered him.

"No," Logan stopped her. "It's good to question. If you don't, you'll never learn anything. You can't solely rely on people telling you things, now can you?"

"What's it like, wearing the mask?" Hermione gestured with her hand by making circular motions around her face.

"It's not so bad. It smells after a while. And it's hard to eat… and to drink."

"Oh. Um, so you actually saw Harry, right?" Hermione met his eyes, or at least the eyeholes in the mask. It was like staring into the darkness of night, engulfing everything and anything that looked into them.

"Yes," he nodded. "He was at the Owl Barn when I saw him. He was talking with Martha about Winter's Crest." There was a long silence between them.

"How was he?" Hermione wondered. "Was he all right? Did he look okay?"

"He looked fine to me."

"That's good." Hermione turned her attention back to the _Daily Prophet_. She carefully folded her the picture back into her pocket and pretended to read the front page. Even though her eyes were looking at the words printed on the newspaper, her mind wasn't registering them. All she could think about was Harry. She could only hope he was all right and safe.

"Do you know what the Vanguard is planning?" Hermione asked. Logan stared at her for a moment before answering.

"I have a question for your question," said the masked wizard. He dropped his flask into his pouch and lean forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Do you know why some pure-bloods hate Muggle-borns?" Hermione shook her head. She used to think about it when she was growing up in Hogwarts, but after a while, it faded out of her mind. The young witch had moved past the irrational hatred and embraced her parentage. Then Logan answered the question. "They're afraid of you, Hermione."

He smiled. Hermione could sense he was smiling.

"I don't understand and how did you know…" she responded.

"Please, I knew who you were when you walked into the Owl Barn. I'm very well versed in the wizarding community." He answered her. "My next question is: do you know the origins of magic?"

"No," said Hermione. "I never really thought about it."

"Well, neither do I, but that's what the Vanguard are trying to discover, its origins. Besides that, I'm not entirely sure," replied Logan. "Magic is a wonderful phenomenon that we still don't fully understand."

"But what does that have to do with pure-bloods being scared of Muggle-borns?"

"You defy the 'natural' order of things, Hermione. Pure-bloods are born with magic because they are without Muggle ancestry and half-bloods are born with magic because they have a wizarding parent. So we can assume magic is passed down from parent to child. Then my next question is: where do Muggle-borns get their magical abilities?"

Hermione just sat there in silence. She often questioned her place in the wizarding world, but the origins of her magical abilities never really crossed her mind. Could one of her ancestors been a wizard or witch at some point, but somehow the inherent abilities never manifested until her? Or was it something else her mind couldn't grasp or comprehend? Hermione merely stared into the flickering flames of the dying fire. The light danced across her face and distorted the serious expression she wore.

"You should get some rest," Logan interrupted her trance. Hermione looked back up at him.

"And what about you?" she asked.

"Well, someone has to keep an eye out," the masked wizard stood up and stretched his arms and legs. "Besides, I don't sleep much. We'll talk about this later." Hermione nodded and pulled out her own blanket from her bag. She placed the blanket on the snow-covered ground and used her bag as a pillow. The only thing she could picture in her mind was Harry before she lost herself to the night. With her eyes closed, sleep finally took her.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks for reading. I'll be changing things up after this chapter. Each will be told in POV of a different character, primarily: Hermione, Ron, Logan, and Harry, at least until new characters are introduced. And again, thanks for reading!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

Harry braced himself against the wall of the long and narrow hallway as it shook violently. Pieces of the stone fell around him and Logan from the ceiling and walls. The granite tiles shattered into dust when they landed on the floor. Random jets of light flew around the two wizards as they descended down the hallway. The spells burst and crackled when they collided with the walls, creating bursts of heat and energy.

"Keep moving, Logan," Harry shouted over the load explosions, his ears ringing. He trailed a few strides behind Logan as they made their way through the chaos. The young wizard used his left arm to protect his face from the heat of the small explosions and swung his right aimlessly behind them as he casted spells with his wand. The darkness ate up the light that erupted from Harry's wand and then sent it back at him just as strong and twice as violent.

Harry's body was sweating heavily and the cotton linens he wore stuck to his body, slowing him down. His wool robes were tattered and torn at the fringes. The bottoms of his shoes were worn down to the sole. His brown cloak was covered with burns and patches were missing. Logan's condition didn't appear any better than his. The wizard's attire was similarly torn and charred, but Harry could also smell the burns and oil from Logan's shaggy hair and beard.

A spell made contact with a small column next to Harry. Stone, heat, and energy erupted when the spell touched the ancient granite, sending Harry into the wall opposite of the column. Logan turned around quickly to help him. He took Harry's wand from his bloody hands and muttered an incantation as he swung his arm vertically upward. The ground near Harry's feet shook violently after the spell was cast. Within seconds, the cobble stone floor broke apart and turned into small pieces of shrapnel and dust. The destruction rode down the hallway like a small tidal wave.

"C'mon," Logan demanded and gave Harry his wand back as he helped him onto his feet. Harry turned to survey the damage caused by Logan's spell, but he could barely see anything behind of him let alone the ruin caused by the spell. Logan tugged on Harry's collar to break the trance and to get him moving again.

When they reached the large atrium of the temple, Logan stopped at the opening and allowed Harry to run past him. "Run, Potter!" He shouted to his friend as he drew his own wand and faced the dark hallway. Harry immediately halted, a few steps from the staircase that led to the exit of the underground temple. He turned around too.

"I can't," Harry yelled back as he started to walk back to Logan. He wasn't going to leave his friend to fight them alone. Logan looked exhausted and was out of breath. The grizzled wizard wasn't going to last long alone against them and they both knew it. The hard truth was: even though Logan knew some obscure and random spells that were effective in combat, he wasn't a very good duellist.

"No. I'll hold them—" Before Logan could finish, a loud bang echoed through the large room as light from the hallway engulfed the darkness that was around them.

* * *

Harry stared out into the village through the ice-covered windows of the Snowflake Inn. Even though it was summer, it rarely stopped snowing at Winter's Crest. The small town lived up to its name and than some. Harry had relocated to the village a few months ago and everyday it snowed or rained or hailed or worse. Sometimes it was a light layer of snow, and other times it was close to being a full-blown blizzard. The young wizard was tired of the cold but he wasn't going to give up now.

After graduating from Hogwarts, Harry, Ron, and the other graduates were put into an accelerated apprenticeship and everything seemed to be going well after the first month. Then, under the orders of Shacklebot, Harry was sent to investigate a disturbance in the region. A few months prior to Harry's arrival, the use of magic had grown significantly and it caught the attention of the Ministry. While the Ministry did not see this as a potential threat, it wanted someone to check it out regardless. Thus, Harry was charged instead of a seasoned Auror. Even though he was still training, Shacklebot and the others were confident in Harry and believed that it was nothing serious. A mere visit would be sufficient. That's what they told Harry three months ago.

The room he stayed in was small, but it provided him with adequate space he needed to work. There was a tiny table and chair located in the far corner of the room next to the window he was standing at, while a bed of rags and blankets occupied the opposite corner. There used to be a mattress, but it smelled of urine and other unsavory things. And even though there was no mattress, it provided Harry the sleep he desperately required. But he slept very little regardless and the chilly air wasn't very helpful. The walls of the room were plastered with newspaper clippings, pictures, notes, and other various documents. Harry's investigation had evolved into something much bigger than perceived by the Ministry. However, a lot of it was mere conjecture and speculation and no one would take him seriously unless he had real evidence. Besides, Harry believed the Ministry had been infiltrated and was afraid his message to Shacklebot would be intercepted.

Thus the young wizard hadn't spoken to anyone outside of the village since he arrived. He barely talked to the inn's owner or his neighbors. It was better that way. Several owls had stopped by over the months with letters and messages from everyone, but he never answered them. He was amazed that the owls always found him and it was rare to receive an official message from the Ministry via aeroplane. A small mountain of letters and parcels had developed in the trashcan beside his table. Was this the life of an Auror on the road? Cut off and alone from friends, family, and the rest of the wizarding world?

Harry's trance was broken when an owl flew up to his room. It perched itself on the frozen edge of the window and started tapping its beak softly against the glass. Harry grimaced and forcefully opened the window before the owl could crack it. The owl hooted angrily when it was almost knocked off its perch. The bird had a small scroll tied to its leg, another letter Harry assumed. The wizard released the messenger of the scroll and let the window seal fall shut. The owl hooted again and flew away.

The letter was from Hermione and Harry read it quietly to himself:

_Harry,_

_I hope you're doing well. We're all worried about you. None of us have heard from you in months. We need to know what's going on, I need to know. Please write back when you can._

_Hermione_

She had been writing him almost twice a week for the past month. Harry knew his best friend was only concerned about his wellbeing, but he didn't have time to answer her nor did he want to. He still wasn't sure about what he was getting himself into and endangering Hermione was the last thing he wanted. That's one of the reasons why he broke off his relationship, once again, with Ginny after the first month of his assignment. She also refused to look at the big picture and she always irrationally demanded too much from him.

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered to the imaginary Hermione in the room as he dropped the scroll the trashcan with the others. He could hear her voice in his head, she was scolding him for being self-sacrificing and for not allowing others to help him, but he did have help. He sat down in his bed of rags and shuffled through them. Underneath the blankets, he found a small tin box. The young wizard pulled out his wand and pressed it against the lock. There was a click and the enchantment was broken, but only for a moment. Every time it closed, the jinx would reset; a trick he picked up during his training.

He carefully opened the metal container. Harry smiled when he looked down at the pictures and other items that were held in the small box. The pictures were of him and his friends over the years. His favorite was of him, Hermione, and Ron at the Quidditch World Cup they attended before his fourth year at Hogwarts. The picture behind it was one of him and Hermione, swaying back and forth at a Gryffindor party. The one after that was of him and Ron playing their last game of Wizard's Chess in the Great Hall. Underneath that picture was one of him and Weasleys; they were huddle together in front of the newly built Burrow. The last was one of Hermione, alone, sitting on a bench. She looked beautiful in the picture, she always did. Ever since the Yule Ball, Harry couldn't ignore her beauty. He missed those days, those days at Hogwarts and those days in between. Even though it was filled with dark times, he was still happy since he was with those closest to him. Now the wizarding world was a better place with Voldemort gone but he wasn't happy and he was alone. Life was kind of funny that way.

Then there was a loud knock at the door. Harry turned his body towards the door with his wand drawn on it. He quickly closed the box and hid it beneath his makeshift bed. After hiding the small tin, he slowly got up and approached the door. The faint light from the hallway could be seen peeking through the openings in the wooden door, but he could see the shadow of someone covering some of the cracks. "Who is it?"

"It's Logan," the wizard called out. "Let me in." Harry let out a silent sigh of relief and hid his wand behind his back when he opened the door.

"Where have you been?" Harry asked.

"I found it." Logan smiled as he walked into the room. Harry stepped aside, keeping his back and wand turned away from Logan. The bearded wizard had a similar build to Harry, but he was five years his senior and appeared to be much bigger due to the number of layers he was wearing. He had various robes on, ranging from cotton to wool, and even some furs. Despite the fact that Logan was from this area, he was never fond of the cold. "It's barely November and it already feels like winter." Logan shook the crusts of snow off his back and shoulders and took off the large fur coat, greatly reducing his size and girth. "I think I know why they're here."

"Is that the map?" Harry pointed at the cylindrical case tied to Logan's side. Logan lifted up his arm and undid the knot that attached it to his shoulder. He pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment as he walked towards the table. With a swoop of his free arm, Logan pushed everything off the table. He then unrolled the scroll and laid it open for them to read.

"Yes, it's a map of Winter's Crest," responded Logan. Harry walked over to the table. The map was extremely old and rugged. The parchment was made of pig's hide and had greatly deteriorated over the years. The corners and edges were fringed and weaves were becoming undone. The ink was barely visible, but he could still read it. However, the size of the town on the map concerned him. It was a map of Winter's Crest, that was easy enough, but the map depicted the village as the size of London if not bigger.

"How old is this map?" Harry said, leaning over.

"I'd say a few thousand years," Logan smiled. Harry stepped back and examined the grin on his friend's face. Despite how the ludicrous the statement was, Logan was always sincere and truthful, at least to him, or at least that's what Harry believed. "I found it buried near the old crypt in the cemetery."

"You what?" Harry scolded. "You went grave digging?"

"No, not really," the wizard defended. "I learned that the map was hidden somewhere in the cemetery. Honestly, who would go digging in a cemetery?"

"You would," Harry replied coolly.

"Besides me, of course. An ingenious plan if you ask me," Logan admired. "And your suspicions were correct. The village was a wizarding center back in the day, but I never thought Winter's Crest could be so huge. I mean, thousands of years ago, this place was bigger than the City." The City. Logan always referred to London, or anywhere else that was bigger than Province for that matter, as "The City." It annoyed Harry for some reason but it was always humbling as well. "But for some reason, the population migrated from the region and it shrank into what it is today."

"Okay," Harry said. "Lets take a look at this." He started to scan the map quickly, but diligently. His eyes darted from left to right of the parchment as his mind consumed the map.

"What are we looking for?" Logan asked as he dug out a small flask from his robes.

"Not sure," Harry muttered.

"I mean," Logan explained. "There's nothing out of the ordinary if you ask me." He took a large swig from his flask. Harry ignored his friend's commentary and continued to search the map. Then he noticed a strange marking on the map near the edge of the city. He leaned forward, his nose almost touching the parchment, to get a better read. Harry could smell the residue of the ink that once was there. It appeared someone had removed the ink from the pig's hide, but the impressions from the engravings were still there.

"This," Harry stated and pointed for Logan to see.

"What is it?" Logan wondered.

Harry grimaced. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "But there's one way to find out."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Ron was frozen stiff. This was probably the worst way to go. The cold had been slowly taking him since they apparated into forest yesterday and he could feel death was close behind. Sleep was a nice escape but it was merely a temporary remedy. Even though his mind didn't register the below-freezing temperatures of the forest as he slept, it didn't mean he wouldn't feel it in the morning. The Auror was having a nice dream too. Ron was in Egypt, or Australia, or somewhere warm, very warm, it didn't matter. There was definitely a beach too, the ocean breeze was cooling but not freezing and the waves looked magnificent as they crashed into the soft sand. And a beautiful woman, in a bikini, of course, was there as well. But it was all lie when he woke up. The warm sun, the beach, the beautiful woman in a bikini, all of it was a lie. The snow was his reality and the cold was his companion.

They moved silently through the forest as the sky reached twilight. To their right, the sun was starting to rise and the sky was burning red and orange. To their left, the sky was still black as midnight as night gave way to day. It was almost December and the days were getting shorter and shorter, beginning with a delayed sunrise followed by an early sunset. At least the new snow was already melting as the sun slowly rose. Ron had to find the bright side of the current situation, which wasn't very bright at all.

He had long stopped complaining about the lack of breakfast, but that didn't prevent his stomach from grumbling every few minutes. Hermione would shoot him angry glances every time his stomach made a noise, but even she gave up on him after the first hour. It looked like she was developing a cold herself. Hermione's nose was red and rubbed raw while mucus wouldn't stop running from her inflamed nostrils. Logan appeared to be enjoying himself on the other hand. He would hum an obscure song from time to time and often turned his head to check up on them as they weaved around the trees.

The masked wizard stopped instantly in his tracks and raised his hand into the air to signal them. Ron saw Hermione roll her eyes and he shared her frustration. This was the fifth time he'd stopped them. Every moment they halted their progression, it gave the cold a chance to build up and he feared it to a point of ridiculousness. He was being a coward, but he didn't care, it was bloody freezing.

Then his frozen ears twitched when he heard something beyond the trees. He could hear voices approaching them, but he couldn't tell from which direction. It was nerve racking and he was cursing himself for being craven. He was an Auror and he was behaving like a small child afraid of a pixie in his closet. Then again, when he was a child, there really was a pixie hiding in his closet thanks to Fred and George.

"Get behind a tree," Logan hissed. Before Hermione could react, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pinned her against the nearest tree trunk. The masked wizard was standing only inches from her face and she couldn't help but blush due to the proximity of their faces. Ron didn't exactly follow his example unfortunately. Instead, he decided to dive for a fallen tree next to him. Snow flew up around him and the trunk shook when his body made contact with it.

He groaned in pain. Small twigs and branches made small cuts and scratches on his face. The snow beneath him almost made him numb instantaneously. And he feared the parts of his arms and legs that collided with the tree would develop bruises. The Auror carefully pulled out his wand from his overcoat and tried to control his breathing. Ron lied there, motionless, and waited for the faceless voices to come.

"What's going on?" he heard Hermione whisper as the voices approached them.

"It might be the Vanguard." Logan muttered.

"What?" Ron chimed in. "Why would they be out here? Are they looking for the village too?"

Logan slightly shrugged. "I might have forgotten to mention that."

"But why are we hiding?" Hermione questioned. "I'm sure we can take them. There's three of us and it sounds like there's only two of them."

"The problem is… I kind of lost my wand. And I can't risk blowing my cover, not yet." Logan explained.

"Are you serious?" Instead of answering her, he placed his left hand over her mouth, silencing her. She looked at him, perplexed, but he refused to give her notice. Ron followed suit and kept quiet. The Auror could hear the footsteps getting closer and closer to them. Somehow the faceless voices knew exactly where they were. His heart started to race and it felt like his chest was going to explode from anticipation. After a few minutes of waiting, two masked wizards walked between them.

"I hate this," the one closest to Ron said angrily. Ron was thankful they didn't notice him in the snow or see Hermione and Logan standing against the tree beside them. If he could see the two wizards, they'd certainly see them if they decided to turn around. The one that was complaining was short in stature, but round and full. His body was tightly wrapped in several layers of robes, which gave off the impression that he was waddling instead walking. His mask was barely visible under the hood of his cloak, but Ron could see that it was white like Logan's and had a faint grey "V" painted across it. "C'mon, Thomas, we should just leave. It's too cold."

"Stop, Jacob," Thomas spat. He wore a similar mask, but he was much taller and slender than his counterpart. The wizard was wearing only a few layers in comparison to Jacob and appeared to be more comfortable with the current weather conditions due to the black wool that grasped his body. Ron envied him, but only for that moment. "I'm tired of your complaining."

Ron then noticed Logan's right arm moving against Hermione's side. His hand grazed against her hip and appeared to be looking for something. What was he doing? Hermione almost squeaked but she held in her shock and discomfort. That was it; they were going to die. But then Logan quickly spun around with Hermione's wand in his hand. In the name of Merlin, that would have been awkward, but then again, what was he doing?

"Hey," Logan shouted with Hermione's wand at hand, so much for not engaging the Vanguard. As the wizards turned around to face him, light burst from the tip of the wand. A string of lightning jetted through the air and made contact with Jacob. The spell hit him in the shoulder and sent him into Thomas. Their bodies flew through the chilly air and collided into a nearby tree.

"What are you doing?" Hermione demanded. Logan didn't answer her. He silently shoved the wand into her hands and walked over to the incapacitated wizards. The masked wizard knelt beside them to check on their condition. Satisfied with the results, Logan searched for their wands.

"What did you do to them?" Ron asked as he brushed the snow out of his hair and off his robes. He'd never seen a spell like that before. There appeared to be no physical damage done to Jacob besides the bruising and bleeding from hitting Thomas and the tree. There wasn't even a mark from where the spell made contact with his shoulder.

"Don't worry. They'll only be out for a while," Logan responded. He picked up their wands and broke them in half against his knee. "This will stall them."

"Wait," Hermione shouted.

"What?" Logan turned to face her. "This is the best way to ensure our safety. Do you want them wandering around? Armed? They'll have to leave the forest now."

"You could have used one of their wands," she snapped.

"Ah," Logan looked down at the broken wands in his hand, dumbfounded. He shrugged his shoulders in the typical manner and threw the shattered wands into the forest. "We have to move fast. There might be others." Logan walked away from the fallen wizards and moved past Ron and Hermione. The Auror exchanged looks with Hermione and they quickly chased after him before he was lost to the forest.

"How did you lose your wand?" Ron questioned when they caught up with him. He and Hermione were a few steps behind him like usual.

Logan didn't respond at first. "That's a little hard to explain."

"How?" Hermione joined in.

"Well, I lost it in a battle," Logan seemed to be embarrassed. Ron didn't like it. Even though Logan was an informant, he wasn't sure if he could be trusted after all. It would be stupid to question his honesty now; Ron and Hermione had traveled all this way from London. And he wouldn't hear the end of it from Hermione. She often understood, when she wasn't angry, his methodology and quirks, but that didn't stop her from remembering the dumb things he had done in the past. This would be one to remember, another thing to add to her list of things she'd never forget to mention at dinners, at parties, and at other random events.

"Did you break it or did you physically lose it?" Ron asked. Hermione gave him the "dumb look." He recognized that expression all too well; he last saw it on the train to Province.

"A little of both," Logan sighed. He was being very evasive when it came to revealing the truth behind his wand's demise. Ron felt for him, but the Auror hid his silent empathy. He had been forced to use a broken wand during his second year at Hogwarts. Then again, it did save him as many times as it hurt him. He kept count, most of the time.

Hermione decided to move on from the subject. "Did you know those two wizards?"

"Whom?"

"Those two wizards. Uh… Thomas… and Jacob… I believe were their names."

"Oh. A little. They were there when I first put on this bloody mask, but I never formally met them."

"How high were they up the food chain? Their masks were painted differently than yours," inquired Ron.

"Oh, not very high at all," Logan chuckled. "Or else, they wouldn't be wandering the forest looking for Winter's Crest." What he said held water, or frozen water. Ice cubes? It didn't matter. Ron pushed the analogy out of his mind and focused on the snow that had somehow made its way into his robes. He was definitely regretting his choice of hiding places a few moments ago.

"What's wrong with you?" Hermione noticed his discomfort. Ron was trying to adjust his robes and jeans to loosen the snow that wrapped around him.

"I've got snow in my pants," Ron spoke without thinking. Hermione and Logan stopped for an instant and they both gave him the "dumb look," again. Hermione did for certain. He wasn't positive about Logan, but he could tell he was giving off the same vibe. "So, what was Harry looking for at Winter's Crest?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Logan pushed on. "But whatever it was, the Vanguard is obviously looking for it too."

"Does this have to do with the whole origin of magic thing?" Ron asked. Hermione looked at him with a shocked expression on her face. The wizard merely smiled at her in response. He was happy that he could still surprise her.

"So you weren't sleeping after all," Logan asked slyly.

Ron shrugged. "I might have been awake." He would have liked to attribute it to his Auror training, but he had learned how to sleep and listen at the same time a long time ago at Hogwarts. Divination class, during his third year, was the best place to train this strange ability of his. He and Harry would often use this trick all the time when Professor Trelawney aimlessly spouted about omens and prophecies to the class.

"I'm still new to the Vanguard," Logan responded. "However, I'd bet on the Caerphilly Catapults that it has something to do with it… That's if I was a betting man." He laughed to himself; Ron and Hermione didn't find the joke amusing. Then he stopped. "We're here."

"Here?" Hermione asked. She didn't try to hide her annoyance.

"Winter's Crest."

"Where?" Ron wondered.

"Don't you remember? It's invisible. Some bloke put a charm on it."

"But how do you know we're here?"

Logan pointed at a fallen tree branch. It appeared to be like every other branch that lay on the snowy ground. Then he realized what Logan was really pointing at. Part of the branch was missing. It was obvious when you looked for it. The end of the branch just disappeared, like it was hiding behind the Cloak of Invisibility. Before Ron could say anything Logan was gone when he turned his head back to him.

"Where'd he go?" Ron asked Hermione, but she disappeared too. Duh. The Auror took a deep breath and stepped forward as he held it, his eyes were closed when he crossed. Then he slowly opened them. Ron stood there in horrific awe along with Hermione when he saw the village.

Most of Winter's Crest was burned down and destroyed. Someone had razed the village to the ground and didn't take it easy on the small town. Majority of the buildings had collapsed roofs and charred walls. A few structures remained standing, but all of the windows were blown and most of the infrastructure had decayed. Shards of frozen glass, wooden splinters, and stone dust littered the area. And snow covered the ruined city, like everywhere else.

"Welcome," Logan said wryly, "to Winter's Crest."

"Bullocks," Ron muttered.

"Harry can't be here," Hermione fell to her knees, shaking and trembling as she started to cry. Ron didn't go to her, he couldn't move his legs, or body for that matter. A cold, dark terror crept from his stomach and wrecked through him without mercy. He wanted to vomit at the inclination that Harry was buried someplace underneath the rubble and ash. He wanted Winter's Crest to be somewhere else and not this place. The young Auror wished with all his might, but he knew they were where they were supposed to be. The next best thing was to imagine Harry was no longer in the village. Ron hoped his best friend had escaped this place before it was laid to ruin. But if Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, wasn't here, then where was he?

* * *

_A/N: Even though I'm a few hours behind the New Year, I thought I'd start it with a new chapter nonetheless. Also, over the next month, I'll be updating frequently, possibly two chapters at a time. I have the next few chapters written and the rest of Act I outlined. I'd like to get Act I finished as soon as possible so I can start Act II. And of course, thanks for reading and hope you all had a great holiday!  
_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: It's been a while, but due to the last movie premiering today, I was inspired to continue this story. Unfortunately, I had to delete chapter 6 and since then, my hard drive took a nosedive. Sadly nothing was salvageable, and thus I'm basically starting from scratch with this chapter. It will be similar to one I had upload earlier, but will obviously have its differences. So, enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Logan took a deep breath of the chilly, winter air. To warm up his cooled lunges, the wizard took a quick swig of his flask. "So, this is it?"

Harry stepped forward and carefully examined the frozen pillar. He brushed away the snow particles, and beneath the snow was a stone totem pole covered by a thin layer of ice. There were intricate carvings along the granite pillar, but revealed nothing to them.

"Did you—" Logan repeated.

"I heard you," Harry said. The young wizard continued forward with Logan trailing after him. After a few minutes of marching through the dead wood, they came across a giant stonewall. Despite the fierce storm, there was little snow around it. There was obviously an enchantment place to protect it from the elements. Harry then pulled out his wand and tapped the wall.

The ground began to shake as the stone and mortar started to part like a doorway. Behind the makeshift entrance was nothing, but darkness. The tip of Harry's wand lit instantly as he took his first steps down the stairs.

"Did I tell ever you I don't like going underground?" Logan asked jokingly as he followed his companion. Like usual, Harry bid him no attention as they descended into the temple. "Harry?"

Logan gave a sigh of relief when they reached level ground. The journey into the abyss felt like a lifetime, and he was quite happy to have solid footing once more. The short corridor led them to a giant hall that Harry's wand could not completely illuminate. To help, Logan brought out his wand and lit it. Across from them was another hallway that led to more darkness. However, that did not stop Logan from admiring the décor of the room.

Along the walls stood statutes of stone and marble. Each statue was a wizard or witch holding a different stance. The only thing common about them was the small flag draped at their feet. Unfortunately, each flag were charred and burned, permanently obscuring its coat of arms, except for the background, which was a deep red. Then Logan stopped when he realized how strange their surroundings were.

"What?" Harry asked.

"The statues," Logan simply responded.

"Yes?"

"Look at them." Logan slowly approached the statute next to the doorway. Harry followed his lead. "Something's wrong with them."

"What's wrong with them?"

"They're clean," Logan muttered as he wiped the nonexistent dust from the podium. He then took the flag up into his hand and brought it up to his face. The flag had recently been burned; he could still feel the heat resonating from charred fabric. Not good.

"That means they could still be here?" Harry said.

"Just my luck." Logan replied as they continued their journey. The hallway was long and narrow. Everywhere Logan looked, large icicles hung from the tile ceiling. The frozen water that broke through the cracks and crevices resembled roots. Frightening roots. To stem his growing fear, Logan drank from his flask again. It did not help with his cowardice, but it did warm his body, even if for a moment.

"You really should stop drinking that," Harry whispered. "I can smell it from here."

"Of course you can. You're standing right next to me."

"That's not the point. It'll speed up the onset hypothermia."

"What? How?"

"It draws the heat from your limbs to your core. You cool down faster."

"I did not know that."

"I know."

Logan squinted when he saw a third light source before them. It was small, but the tired wizard instructively recognized its orange hue. It was fire. That meant warmth, but that also meant company. "Do you see that?"

"Yes," Harry replied without slowing down. In contrast to Logan's feelings, Harry sped up his stride, almost to the point of a run. As the silhouette of a doorway grew large, Harry and Logan extinguished the light from their wands.

When they reached the end of the corridor, Harry quickly crouched to the ground and used his hand to direct Logan. The older wizard quickly followed suit as they entered the room. They came up to landing of a staircase that was built along the wall. Harry took cover behind the stone railing as they made their way down the stairs.

It quickly leveled out, but it didn't lead to the ground floor. Instead, it wrapped around the room link a balcony. Both wizards froze in their steps when they got a clear view of room beneath them.

In the middle of the open room was giant stone table surrounded by several hooded figures on their knees. On the table is what concerned them, a being of stone. The hooded figure at the head of the table stood up and drew back his hood. Despite the great distance, Logan would have been able to make out the wizard's facial feature. However, the white mask he wore made any attempt to discover his identity futile. The others followed his lead as they drew their wands.

"It is time, my brothers and sisters," the lead wizard spoke. He raised his arms up into the air as if practicing prayer. "Touch the golem." The wizards and witches touched their wands against the stone figure.

"We are ready, Consul," they said in unison.

The Consul pulled out an ivory blade from his robes and pressed it against his open palm. With a quick slash, he drew blood and pressed his hand against the forehead of the golem. He started to chant, but it was inaudible to Logan and Harry. Within a matter of seconds, the golem roared to life. Its eyes burned red as it let out a scream that shook Logan to his very soul. Not good.

"Harry, I think it's time to go," Logan tugged on the sleeve of Harry's robe.

The wizard to the Consul's immediate right looked up at their location and raised his wand.

"Not good," Logan said aloud. Light erupted from the wizard's wand. The jet of energy instantly broke with a swish of Harry's wand.

"Time to go," Harry shouted. The Consul shouted a command in a strange language. The golem roared as it stood up. The stone table beneath shattered and the monster crushed one of the wizards. The Consul and most of his followers disappeared as the remaining wizards and the golem took chase.

The corridor shook violently as Harry and Logan made their way. Pieces of ice spires and stone tiles fell around them from the ceiling and walls. The ice splintered into small shards while the granite shattered into dust. While it caused them no physical ailments, it did make it harder for them to maneuver through the debris. Logan's attention was quickly drawn to the jets of light that flew past them. The distance between them and their attackers made their spells inaccurate, but it did not lessen the danger they were in.

* * *

"Keep moving, Logan," Harry shouted over the explosions caused by the impact of the spells against the stone and ice. Logan constantly checked behind his shoulder to make sure Harry was behind him while casting his own spells. Harry followed his example and swung his right arm aimlessly as he casted random spells and hexes that came to mind. The darkness swallowed the light that erupted from their wands and sent it back at them with much more ferocity.

Logan tried to cover his face. Not from the attacks per say, but from smell of burnt hair, his shaggy hair and beard to be exact. The small beanie he once wore was long gone. He would miss that cap. His nostalgia for his beanie was soon replaced by his concern for Harry. A spell made contact with a small column next to partner and the explosion sent him into the opposite wall. Logan turned around quickly to help him.

The grizzled wizard grabbed Harry's wand and muttered, "_crispo eversio_." The ground next to Harry's feet erupted violently. The destruction formed into a wave about waist high that rode down the corridor.

"C'mon," Logan demanded of Harry as he helped back onto his feet. Harry tried to look at the damage caused by Logan, was pulled away by his collar. When they reached the hall of the temple, Logan stopped and let Harry run past him. "Run, Potter!"

Harry halted next to the staircase when he heard Logan and yelled back, "I can't."

Logan was exhausted and he knew Harry was aware of his condition, but that did not matter. He had to protect his friend and it was that simple. The old wizard remembered anecdotes and stories about courage and fear. Fear was nothing to be ashamed of as long as one had the courage to stand up against that fear. He hated that. There was no such thing as courage. Just stupidity. But he hoped, he hoped Harry would describe him as courageous.

"No. I'll hold them—" Before Logan could finish, a loud bang echoed through the room as light from the hallway destroyed the darkness around them.

Logan felt no pain as he was sent through the air. Lucky for him, the spell had struck a few strides behind him, but the impact was strong enough to move him. However, his landing did hurt.

"Look out," Harry shouted. The young wizard shot spells from his wand to deter their attackers. Logan looked up at the corridor, but there was nothing. As he stood up, the golem broke through the doorway. Logan watched in horror as he watched the stone monster drag the wizards into the room. He was confident they were dead, and adamant that the golem was out of control.

"We can't let this thing escape."

"What?"

"We can't let this damn monster escape." Logan took the lead in the charge. The wizards split up and attacked the golem from different sides. The spells had no affect on the beast. The spells either bounced off or disintegrated on impact. He seemed immune to their attacks. Not good.

"Nothing's working."

"Attack the ground at its feet," Logan shouted. "Try to immobilize it." With an arm swing, the ground in front of him broke apart like wave. It struck against the golem as if it were a cliff and had the same effect: nothing. However, the floor crumbled beneath its weight. Harry followed suit with similar spells to dig a deeper hole for the golem.

Golem roared in anger and twisted and turned to break free. Its movements caused the rest of the floor to crack. The statue beside Logan fell onto him. The old wizard managed to dodge it, but lost his wand.

"Get out of there." Harry noticed what was happened.

"I have one final move."

"What?"

"This," Logan pulled out a gauntlet from his robes. He put his right hand into the strange weapon. The fringes of the gauntlet attached itself to sleeves of his robe as it tightened around his wrist and fingers.

"What is that?"

"I'm sorry to have lied to you, Harry." Logan flexed his guarded fist to get a feel for the gauntlet. "They're looking for weapons."

"Weapons?"

"Yes. The golem is one of them." Logan closely examined the gauntlet. "And this is another." The old wizard opened his palm as the glove started to electrify the air around it. "Run, Potter, while you still can." Logan formed a fist as electricity ran up and down his arm. He charged at the golem. The monster tried to repel his attack with projectiles and swing of its large arm. However, the creature was slow and encumbered. Logan ducked beneath the golem's arm and punched it in the side. The stone body of the golem cracked and parts of it shattered. Even though the attack did not put the golem down, he did manage to hurt it.

His attack was not enough to stop the golem. The stone monster turned to face Logan and grabbed his neck. It lifted Logan into the air with little effort. Not good. Logan dangled almost lifelessly in the creatures hand. However, the fear that once grasped him was gone. He felt calm and light. Harry screams and shouts were lost to him and he fell into darkness. The old wizard gave up and let the golem take him. There was nothing. No pain. No fear. Just a smile.

* * *

_A/N: More to come next week and hopefully I'll be able to hit another comfortable stride._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Ron wrapped the wool scarf tightly around his neck and mouth. The snow started to pick up again and he could tell it was going to be a very cold day. He and Hermione slowly tailed Logan as tracked through the abandoned village. Abandoned was not the only thing wrong with the small town. The majority of the builds had burned down in the village of Winter's Crest. The few that remained were merely consisted half-standing walls and broken windows.

"Over here," Logan directed them towards a small building. As Logan and Hermione approached the remnants of the front door, Ron walked over to a half buried sign. The young Auror knelt beside the wooden plank and brushed the snow away. It read, "Snowflake Inn." How original.

"Do you think Harry stayed here?" Hermione asked as Logan slowly pushed the door open.

"Seems like it," Ron answered her. "It's an inn." He followed them through the broken door and surveyed the tiny lobby. While the front half of the building stood, the back had almost completely burned down. It was a strange sight to behold. Logan walked over to what looked like a check-in desk while Hermione examined temporary mailboxes.

"Nothing useful," Hermione grimaced. The names had burned away like the rest of the town. Even though the containers held, their contents were charred ash. Ron picked around the destroyed mail with his wand, but found nothing. No surprised.

Logan pulled out a giant book from behind the counter. "I found their logs." The book was protected by enchanted leather. Ron was thankful and he was sure Hermione was too. Their masked friend opened it slowly and started to survey the names, dates, and signatures.

"Anything?" Ron asked with hope in his voice.

"Nothing. If Harry was here," Logan replied. "He used an alias." As Logan was about to turn to the next page, Hermione stopped him. The young witch pushed his hands away and pulled the book towards her.

"Here," Hermione pointed at a scribble.

"That's Harry?" Ron asked jokingly.

"What? You don't remember how horrible his penmanship was?" Ron looked at Hermione for a moment; he could see the truth in her eyes. He then leaned forward very closely to get a better look at the signature.

"Well?" Logan asked, his arms crossed with impatience.

"It's his horrible writing," Ron confirmed. He wasn't completely sure, but he trusted Hermione's judgment.

"What room did he stay in?"

Hermione nudged Ron out of the way and traced the log with her finger, smearing the ink. "It says he stayed on the first floor." Ron and Hermione looked over at the staircase. The bloody thing was gone. All that remained was a large pile of ash.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered.

"Maybe there's another way up," Logan examined the collapsed wall beside the ash. "We can use this as a make shift ramp." He carefully placed his leg onto the charred wood. Since it held his weight, he started his ascension.

"Why did Harry have to stay on the first floor?" Ron asked as he followed behind Hermione. He wasn't concerned with heights or falling, he was merely tired.

"That's his room," Hermione opened the partial door. The door led to a small room with an amazing view of Winter's Crest. The majority of the wall was gone, just like the rest of the village. Logan and Hermione carefully examined the room while Ron became preoccupied with the missing wall. It appeared different to him for some reason. There were burns along the edges of the wood. There was no doubt about that. However, the burns didn't look like a fire caused them. The wood wasn't exactly charred. He couldn't explain it, but it looked different. It looked strange. Ron bunched up a part of his sleeve and rubbed the fabric against the wood.

"What are you doing?" Logan asked as he searched the bed.

"Checking out a hunch," Ron responded. He lifted up his sleeve and saw there was no ash on it.

"What's wrong, Ron?" Hermione noticed Ron's sudden interest in the wall.

"Look," Ron showed her his sleeve. "There's no ash."

"A spell," Hermione answered without being asked.

Ron rubbed the sleeve between his fingers. "That's what I'm thinking."

"So, you think a battle accord in here?" Logan joined the conversation.

"Not entirely sure—," the young Auror began.

"But we're certain this wasn't caused by a fire," Hermione finished.

Logan pulled out torn parchment buried beneath the rags and blankets. It was in poor condition, but it seemed readable. "Found a map."

Hermione and Ron joined Logan beside the bed. With her lit wand, Hermione began to examine the map with the illuminated tip.

"But what is it a map of?" Ron wondered aloud. The majority of the map was burned, ruined by soot, or ripped away. The main features of the location the map depicted were missing or unrecognizable. If there was a town printed on the parchment, it was long gone like Winter's Crest. Another obstacle. Another set back.

"It's a map of the area," the young witch deduced. "Look, some of these landmarks are similar to ones surrounding the village. See, that hill top right there." Like usual, she was right, the brightest girl of Hogwarts.

"Smart girl," Logan chuckled. "Where do you think he went? This map is useless if he didn't use it."

Ron pulled part of the parchment towards his chest. He tried to flatten out some of the wrinkles. There was a faint circle drawn on the map. Despite the fact it was faded, it looked recent. Ron could see the slight indent of the pen.

"What is that?" Hermione asked as she examined the marking.

"Looks like some sort of building? Or landmark?" Ron attempted.

"Won't know until we find out," said Logan as he rolled it up to their disappointed eyes. "We should be able to walk there and back before nightfall." Ron and Hermione looked at each other, hoping the other would provide an answer.

* * *

"What is it?" Ron asked dumbly. He scratched his head, hoping it would come to him, but nothing did except for a small irritation around his temple. The young Auror was well versed in his ancient studies, but the word failed to come to mind. Typical.

"For Merlin's sake, Ronald," Hermione sighed. "It's elfish totem pole."

"Like house elves?"

"They weren't always _slaves_, Ronald," Hermione brushed away the snow and ice from the stone monument. She seemed completely entranced by the work. Ron couldn't blame her. The stone, despite its age, looked almost brand new. There were no scratches and the edges remained crisp and clean. No signs of any real aging.

"Hey, this one looks like Dobby," Ron joked as he pointed to figure standing on the bottom. Hermione responded by elbowing him in the stomach.

"Stop it." He recognized the tone in the young witch's voice. He knew it all too well. It was the same tone his mother would use whenever she was about to throw a wooden spoon, if he was lucky, at him. It was scary how Hermione could convey the same anger without showing it.

Ron decided to move on before he escalated the situation, leaving Hermione to ogle at the totem pole. He joined Logan at what looked to be an entrance. To where, he did not know, nor did he want to. However, there was a knot in his gut that was informing him that they were going to find out. The young Auror missed the burned down village, regardless of how creepy it was.

"Any idea where it leads?" Ron asked him.

The masked wizard didn't answer him at first. Ron titled his head slightly and watched as he rubbed a slight beard that was hidden beneath the mask. He was thinking, but Ron wasn't sure if he was thinking about the entrance. For some reason, this concerned the young Auror. Then again, he was trained to be suspicious. Not great for making friends, but helpful for survival when it came to working in the field. Humph. Fieldwork.

"Leads down," Logan broke the awkward silence that was building between them.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Hermione came up from behind them. Instead of waiting for a response, she pushed past them and was the first to walk down the steps. Logan shrugged and followed her. Ron, however, was a little hesitant. Before starting his journey downward, he pulled out his wand from his robes. It was smart to be prepared, or at least, that's what he told himself.

The stairs led the trio to a broken hallway. The majority of the walls had collapsed, but there was still enough space for them to navigate through the debris. Hermione led them bravely through the rubble. Ron was happy about Hermione's change in attitude, but he was fearful it was going to lead them into great danger.

"What is this place?" Hermione asked as they reached a small hall.

"It looks like some sort of temple," Ron replied. "Look, a statue." He examined a hooded figure standing against he wall.

"What are you doing?" Hermione hissed.

"Just checking out the decorations," Ron defended his curiosity.

"Dead end," Logan called out to them. Half the ceiling at the end of the hall had collapsed. The exit, or whatever, was buried beneath the rocks. They could try to move them, but it seemed pointless to Ron. However, Hermione didn't share his sentiment.

The young witch pulled out her wand and started to move rocks from the pile with flicks of her wand. Ron sighed and joined in on her endeavor. They worked quietly. Logan couldn't help of course. Instead, he spent his time looking around. Ron was jealous for some reason.

"What is this?" Hermione crouched down and pulled out a small flask. Ron took it from her and examined it.

"Any ideas?" Ron tossed it to Logan. The wizard looked at and shrugged his shoulders.

"Wait," Hermione muttered.

"Huh?" Ron said involuntarily. Before she could answer him, the rocks came to life. A giant stone figure burst through the rubble, lunging over them. The thing was huge, at least twice his height and three times his size.

"Look out," Hermione screamed at Logan.

"What is that?" Ron asked her frantically, failing to hide his terror.

"It's a golem," she answered him as she aim her wand at it.

"A what?" He failed to grasp to entire situation. Ron's mind was running in all different directions at various speeds. None of which understood what was happening.

"Big rock thing," Logan shouted as he dodged one of his assaults. Hermione chased after them, spells erupted from her wand. Each jet light bounced and ricocheted when it made contact with the stone beast. Ron managed to get a hold of himself and joined in the fight, regardless of how useful he really was.

"Nothing seems to be working," Ron pointed out the obvious.

"I couldn't tell," Logan rolled through an opening between the monster's legs.

"Try using the rocks," Hermione offered a solution.

"The rocks?" Ron asked. Instead of hearing a response, a giant slab of stone rushed past his head and collided into the back of the golem. While it didn't make any real dent in the creature's armor, it did send the golem into the wall. "I see what you did there."

"I know you would," Hermione smiled. She wasn't happy, but the adrenaline did cause her excitement, and Ron couldn't hide his either. It had been a while since something this crazy had happened to them. When they attended Hogwarts, something was wrong if they had a casual, boring week. He was no adrenaline junky, but he did miss the action.

Ron immediately followed suit in Hermione's attack, sending humongous chunks of rocks against the golem. Each made contact and kept the creature on the wall. It roared with anger and pushed hard against the wall. Within seconds, the monster was charging at them once again. Realizing where the thing was headed, Ron pushed Hermione out of the way as he lunged in the opposite direction.

"I think it's time we get out of here," Ron shouted.

"And go where?" Hermione asked.

"Anywhere," Ron replied. "We just can't stay here." He and Logan grabbed Hermione by the arms and dragged her out of the hall. She didn't struggle, but Ron was aware that she was furious with their decision to run. The golem wasn't going to answer any of their questions, but whatever was on the other side of the debris was to remain there forever.

"Wand," Logan demanded. Without waiting for a reply, Logan pulled it out of Ron's hand and with a flick of his wrist the entrance collapsed in on itself. However, before the hole could be buried, the golem broke through.

"How in the—" Ron muttered.

"Bloody hell," Logan shoved Ron's wand into his hands and walked towards the golem.

"What are you doing?" Hermione shouted.

Logan kept a steady pace as he approached the golem. The monster seemed to forget about them. It seemed preoccupied with the new world it had just discovered. The masked wizard took advantage of the golem's curiosity. As he got closer, he lifted up the sleeve of his right arm, revealing a gauntlet.

"What is that?" Ron asked Hermione.

"I don't know…"

The gauntlet started to sparkle as the air around Logan started to electrify.

"Wicked," Ron muttered under his breath. Logan walked right up to the golem and stopped beneath its chin. It towered over him like a half-giant.

"Hey," Logan got its attention. "Hey, ugly." The golem looked down, a seemed to convey a sense of confusion. The masked wizard didn't wait for a response, even if it could give one. Instead, he landed a solid punch across its chin. The stone beast fell backwards, crushing the remains of the temple's entrance. He didn't wait for the monster to get back up as he jumped on top of it. Hermione tried to move, but Ron grabbed her by the shoulders.

He wanted to help too, but it would be pointless. They would do more harm than good. Logan started to punch the golem repeatedly with the gauntlet. Each time his fist made contact, sparks and bursts of energy were released. The light created by the small explosions created a silhouette, a heroic aura. Despite his efforts, the golem could not be put down. The monster grabbed Logan by the head, his mask prevented the monster from crushing his head. Thank Merlin it was enchanted. In that moment, Logan sailed over Ron and Hermione.

They watched in silent horror as he collided into a tree, causing it to splinter like a twig. Hermione ran over to him, as Ron stood his ground, facing the golem. He was going to be their defense, or buffer. He wasn't going to stop the golem, so a buffer was a better choice of words.

"Are you alight," Hermione asked Logan.

"Well," Logan tried to answer him. "I ain't dead, if that's what you mean. Wait, what are you doing?" He looked down and watched as Hermione removed the gauntlet from his hand.

"I know what this is," Hermione said as she pulled it off his bruised limb.

"You do?"

"Of course."

"Hermione, what are you doing?" Ron said over his shoulder.

"I'm going to win," the witch replied as she put the gauntlet on. "Buy me some time."

"Oh, sure," said Ron. He turned his attention back to the golem and realized it was charging at him. Nothing was going to work. Nothing. This was not good, that was obvious. Ron, the Auror was going to get killed by a golem, whatever that was. No spell worked on it and there were no giant rocks lying around. Then it hit him, not the golem but an idea. He hoped Hermione would forgive him. Ron pointed his wand at the totem pole and pulled it from the ground. It was deeper than he thought, but he managed to lift it out of the ground. He was also thankful since it was bigger than he expected.

"Ronald," Hermione shouted over all the chaos. The young Auror was aware of the anger directed at him. It made him laugh, on the inside. It calmed him and that's all he needed. The pole flew through the air and collided with the golem. He targeted the beast's side; always aim for the biggest part of the body. However, the totem pole missed his initial target and rammed into the golem's head. Ron wasn't sure if it was he or the enchanted pole, but whatever it was, it worked. When the pole hit the head of the golem, it kept going, with the golem's head. He managed to decapitate the monster.

"I weakened him for you," Logan said. The headless creature continued moving, but immediately slowed down and fell forward into the snow, dead. Ron looked at the slain golem and then back at Hermione and Logan. Hermione stood over Logan, the gauntlet almost on her hand and her mouth wide open. The young Auror took much joy out of the expression on her face.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks for reading! :) __Smiley face._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_A/N: One of the most essential things when it comes to writing with flash backs is having a timetable. Unfortunately, when my hard drive crashed, I lost said timetable. Whenever I have flashbacks that occur over great periods of time, I try to drop some information about the date, like November. Thus, for the sake of simplifying things, lets assume this chapter takes place in early January, and if you couldn't tell, this is another flashback chapter. Enjoy!_

Neville Longbottom kept close to the brick wall. He enjoyed listening to the portraits discuss: random day-to-day events, past adventures "they" had when they were younger, and politics of the Ministry. It wasn't just a defense mechanism to avoid the crowds, but that did not stop his colleagues from questioning him about this compulsion. He often brushed them off and blamed it on the aggressive traffic that flowed throughout the Ministry, he liked to avoid conflict.

Today was different. His entire body was drenched from head to toe with cold water. It was the third consecutive day of rain and the third consecutive day he forgot to bring an umbrella. He was thankful it wasn't snowing, but the snow didn't ruin his shoes. Despite his failures to keep dry, he managed to keep the folders and parchments bunched up beneath his arms free of danger.

"Neville," a sweet voice called out to him. He stopped for the speaker and slowly turned around. It was Hermione. "You're soaked."

"Yeah, I know," he relied dully. With a half smile and a shake of her, Hermione pulled out her wand. The young witch flicked her wand away from Neville, pulling the water out of the fabric that wrapped around him. It was a strange sensation; she even removed the weird feeling of being sticky. "Thanks, Hermione."

"No problem, Longbottom. Where are you off to?" She placed her wand back in her inside jacket pocket.

Neville raised the papers wrapped by his arms. "I have to deliver these to the Minister." There was an awkward silence between them. Neville was training to be an Auror, but due to his own personal faults, he rarely went out in the field. Despite his display of bravery at the Battle of Hogwarts, his superiors viewed him as weak and incompetent. That wasn't him, not anymore. Harry had basically graduated whilst their peers traveled around Great Britain with their respective mentors. Hermione, the brightest witch at Hogwarts, was aware of this fact too.

"I'll walk with you," she offered warmly. Neville nodded, he was thankful for the company.

"What have you been up to?" They started to navigate through the waves and waves of workers, visitors, and everyone else.

"Well," Hermione said. "You know. Doing random tasks for Mr. Weasley. I had to show him how a vending machine works."

"What's that?" Neville never heard of such thing, it sounded weird. He ran it through his mind. He tried to hide his curiosity and fought the urge to mouth out the syllables.

"Never mind," she chuckled. Hermione had noticed. "How's your training?"

The words struck Neville like a stinging jinx. Training, that would be something new. Most of Neville's time had been spent doing administrative tasks and being a delivery boy. He tried to shrug off his discomfort. "It's been going well. Brilliant, really."

"You don't have to lie to me," Hermione assured him. "I understand the pressure you're under, Neville. You have nothing to prove."

"But I do, Hermione," he protested. "I have to prove myself everyday. Everyday until I earn their respect."

"If it's any consolation," she said, "you earned my respect during our first year at Hogwarts."

"I remember," Neville recalled. "You froze me and went on your adventure with Harry and Ron. I wish I was brave enough back then to go with you guys."

"Stop it," Hermione said sternly. "Stop comparing yourself to us. You won us the House Cup, remember?"

Neville shook his head, dejectedly. "I'll always be compared you three. It's inevitable."

Hermione agreed with him, begrudgingly, and dropped the subject. They continued their walk in silence. Neville was happy, for both the silence and the company. Hermione stopped when they reached the turn that led to the Minister's office. She wasn't focused on Neville. The young witch was staring off into the distance.

Neville leaned over and saw who she was looking at. It was Ron Weasley. "I better get going."

He broke her trance. "Right, sorry about that."

"It's okay… It's been what, a week?" Neville questioned about their break up. He didn't want to pry, but he figured this was a good way to comfort her guilt by addressing the problem.

"Yeah," Hermione muttered. "I broke up with him last week. I think I should go now." Before Neville good say his farewells, the young witch disappeared into the crowd. He looked over at Ron and realized he was gone too. Oh well.

Neville took a deep breath and continued down the narrow hall. As he approached the Minister's office, he could hear an argument coming through the door. It was loud and almost violent, but it wasn't audible due to an enchantment. Before he reached the door, it burst open, almost knocking him over. A hood wizard brushed up against Neville.

"Sorry, Neville," the wizard apologized quickly and moved past Neville without waiting for a response. Neville didn't get a good look of his face, but he did get a good smell. The wizard smelled like a wet dog, he obviously didn't have an umbrella or Hermione as a friend.

"Come in, Longbottom," Shacklebolt grabbed his apprentice's attention. Neville entered the room and closed the large door behind him. He had great difficulty closing it and wondered how the strange wizard could open it so easily. The anger that drove him probably helped.

"Here you go, sir," Neville placed the documents on the side of the Minister's desk. Shacklebolt leaned forward and briefly looked over them.

"Good, thank you," he acknowledged. "What are your plans for the weekend?"

Neville was taken aback. "Um, nothing, sir. Need me to run some errands for you?"

"Yes. I need you to travel Province for me."

"To Province?" Neville couldn't hide his excitement. He wasn't exactly excited about going to Province, but he was happy to leave London. This was a chance to prove his worth.

"Yes." He shuffled through the papers and pulled out a scroll.

"Where is that by the way, sir?"

"It's a small village, north of here. I just need you to corroborate these depositions for me." Shacklebolt handed Neville a dirty folder. It was covered in mud and ash. Neville carefully opened it and skimmed through the files. The majority of it was blackened out, except for the names of the witnesses, which were odd, and parts of their statements. "Just a simple check up. Don't go digging."

"Uh, okay," Neville responded automatically. Then there was a knock at the door. Shacklebolt motioned the door with his hand and it opened. A tall man entered the office. He was dressed nicely in silk, scarlet robes and a wool cloak, but wore musky cologne. The young wizard could tell he came from money. The way the stranger carried himself told Neville he was high-ranking official, probably a pureblood to boot. The man completely ignored Neville, invisible once again.

"Minister," he addressed Shacklebolt first.

"Cromwell," the Minister replied. "Neville, this is Lord Timothy Cromwell. He's a dear _friend_ of mine." Cromwell turned towards Neville and shook his hand. Neville couldn't help but notice the thin bandages wrapped around his right hand. A strange heat irradiated from it. Cromwell's hand didn't seem injured, because the handshake was both strong and firm.

"Nice to meet you," Neville said.

"Likewise," Cromwell obliged. Neville looked at his mentor and realized this was a private matter. He quickly gave them a friendly nodded and exited the office. As he cruised down the hallway, the young wizard began to survey the files he was given. When he turned the corner, a random hand grabbed his collar and dragged him into the adjacent restroom.

"What the—" Neville protested. It was the strange wizard from before. He pulled out his wand, pointed it at Neville to quiet him and then locked the door. "Who are you?"

"It's me, Neville," the wizard said as he pulled the hood down. It was Harry. It was Harry Potter, but he was almost unrecognizable. His hair was longer than usual and messy, but beads and strange tokens were woven into it. He was also sporting a short beard and mustache that masked his facial features. It probably made it easier for him to move around.

"Harry," Neville greeted him cheerfully. "What are you doing here? Were you the one fighting with the Minister?"

Harry walked over to the door and checked if it was locked, it was. He was definitely different. He looked tired and defeated, and he had a weird sense of paranoia about him. "Yes, I was arguing with Shacklebolt, the fool."

"What's going on, Harry?" Neville took a few steps towards Harry, slowly.

"They killed him," Harry muttered.

"Killed who?" A chill ran down Neville's spine.

"They killed a friend of mine," Harry responded frantically. He floated to the sink and started to wash his hands and face. "I'm sorry, Neville."

"It's okay," Neville didn't have a grasp on any of it. "Just tell me what happened."

"My contact," Harry tried to explain. "They killed him."

"Who?" Neville asked.

"I don't know. A monster did it. I don't know." He then pulled out a small blade from his jacket. Leaning close to the mirror, Harry started to trim his beard.

"I'm still confused, Harry," Neville tried to make sense of what was happened. "Why me? Why not tell Hermione or Ron?"

Harry stopped for a moment. First he stared at himself in the eye and then shifted his gaze to Neville's reflection in the mirror. "I can't get them involved, it's too dangerous."

"Oh, so I'm expendable?"

"Of course not," Harry appeared to be returning to normal. He titled his head slightly to get a better view of his hair as he chopped it off. "It's just, I can't trust them not to stick their nose into this. I still need to figure things out."

"Okay, what do you want me to do?" Neville was now standing next to Harry, fascinated by his method of self-grooming.

"I need you to stay out of it. The folder you're holding," Harry glimpsed at it for a second, "is my report to Shacklebolt. You'll notice he blacked out almost everything vital and important."

Neville looked down at the papers and shuffled through them again. Harry was right.

"Go to Province like he wants you to, but that's it. Don't talk to anyone about why you're there." Harry placed the blade on the counter and thoroughly washed his hair.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to figure out who killed my friend." Harry removed a dirty rag from his pocket and dried his hair with it. "In order to do that, I need to disappear."

"Disappear?" Neville failed to hide the concern in his voice.

"Yes, I can't trust Shacklebolt or the Ministry. They don't believe me, so my words will only fall on deaf ears." Harry gathered his things into a satchel. "I'll report my findings to you when it's time."

"Okay, but what's going."

"Something is coming, Neville. Something big." Harry pulled out a small tube from his pocket and smeared a weird gel in his hands. He applied it slowly to his hair, slicking it back and completely changing his demeanor. Harry no longer looked like a derange beggar. "Don't tell Hermione or Ron. Promise me you won't tell them. Whatever happens, you can't tell them. Promise me."

"I promise. I promise."

"Thank you," Harry patted his friend on the shoulder. He removed his dirty clothes revealing clean and properly pressed coat. After checking the pockets, Harry disposed the used clothes into the trash and pulled the hood of his jacket back on. "And Neville..."

"Yes, Harry?"

"Remember," he unlocked the door, "you're my only back up." Before Neville could call out to him, Harry was gone. Neville stood alone in the restroom in silence. The young wizard looked down at the open folder in his hands and then at the swinging door. Whatever Harry had gotten himself into, Neville had to help him. Neville didn't need to prove himself anymore. It wasn't about gaining the respect of his friends and colleagues. This new _mission_ was more than that. Harry asked for his aid and he was going to give it.

_A/N: I hoped you enjoyed this chapter and the new POV that I will be integrating into this story._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Hermione was the last of the three to enter the burned remains of the Snowflake Inn. Her body was cold from snow and still sore from the fight they with that "golem," that's what Logan called it. They had spent an hour examining the stone monster, but came up empty handed, once again. Since they could not find anything useful, Ron suggested returning to Winter's Crest. She was still shaking from the encounter, but the young witch tried to cover her compulsion to tremble by blaming it on the cold. The young witch even rubbed her hands together and pressed them against the sides of her arms to play the part.

Logan was in poor condition after the fight. He blamed his "performance" on poor dieting as they trekked through the forest. Ron had to support the masked wizard when they made their way to deserted village. Logan had a severe limp, but thankfully, there was no bleeding. However, Hermione's focus was on warm air rising from his right hand. She attributed the strange sign to the overuse of the gauntlet. Ron appeared to be in the best shaped out of the three. Hermione figured her friend was riding on he high of slaying the monster, and he had every right to be proud of himself, Hermione was. Unfortunately, she was not too impressed with his method of decapitating the creature and was going to be sour about the totem for a while.

They decided to use Harry's room at the Inn since it provided both a clear line of sight and adequate protection from the elements. When they entered the room, Ron plopped Logan on the bed of rags and grabbed one of the blankets on the floor. He used the dirty rag to cover the giant opening in the wall with an enchantment. Then with a flick of his wand, Ron started a small fire in the middle of the room. He pushed the brass dish closer to Logan and took his spot near the opening. The fire served as a great source of light, but generated very little heat.

Hermione took a seat close to the door and looked over at Logan as he tried to make himself comfortable. "Let me see your hand."

"It's fine," Logan muttered coldly, but raised his hand up anyways for her to examine. Hermione took his hand quickly before he could change his mind and twisted it slightly to capture as much light as possible from the fire. Logan was correct to her dismay. There were no burns or signs of healing, his hand looked perfectly fine. However, Hermione could not ignore the heat that his hand was emitting. It was actually warmer than the fire Ron had made.

"How did you do that?" Hermione questioned about the gauntlet. She took it out from her bag. It was also warm to the touch, but it did not burn her.

"Yeah," Ron joined the conversation, "that was wicked."

"It's an ancient weapon," Logan coughed. Before continuing, he opened his satchel and searched through it. He pulled out a small piece of bread and offered it to Hermione and Ron, but they both declined with a shake of their heads. With a shrug, Logan proceeded to tear it apart. "I found it during an excavation."

Hermione and Ron exchange looks. The young witch decided to push first, "You found it during an excavation? Just like that? And where were you excavating?"

"It's complicated," Logan chocked slightly on the bread. "I'm not comfortable discussing its origins, but I'll tell you what it does."

"That's obvious," Ron grimaced. "It uses magic."

"Yes and no," Logan replied. "It's magic, but you don't have to be a wizard to use it."

"Excuse me?" Hermione wondered.

"You don't need an aptitude for magic to use its power." There was a long silence between the three of them.

"You mean," Ron inferred, "a Muggle can use it too?"

"That's what I said, but it's not that simple." Logan finished his small meal and took the gauntlet from Hermione. "To power the weapon, it draws from the midi-chorlians in your body."

"Midi-what?" Ron asked.

"I'm just pulling your leg," Logan chuckled. "That gauntlet absorbs the energy and heat your body naturally creates."

"That means, the only way for the weapon to function at its fullest potential," the young witch deduced, "the user must be fully rested."

"Brilliant," Ron muttered.

"10 points to Gryffindor," Logan chimed.

"How'd you know we were in Gryffindor?" Hermione asked the masked wizard with great concern in her voice.

"Oh please," Logan defended. "You're both famous, maybe not as famous as Mr. Potter, but famous nonetheless." This put Hermione at ease, but she kept her reservations and suspicions to herself. She still knew very little about Logan, and she was confidant that he was hiding something from them. It may not have been important, but she did not like it. However, the young witch had to put some trust into him, regardless of personal feelings.

"If I put that thing on," Hermione gestured at the gauntlet, "I could create electricity and punch things too?"

"Possibly," Logan responded. "The weapon gives the user certain control over one of the elements. It depends on the person on which element is wielded."

"So I could create fire?" Hermione asked.

"Preciously."

"What about that golem?" Ron changed the subject. "It wasn't like any enchanted statue I've ever seen before."

Logan adjusted the sheets before answering. "I don't know. Probably another weapon."

"This doesn't make any sense," Hermione muttered.

"It's that why you're here?" Logan prodded.

"We should get some rest," Ron yawned loudly, interrupting the momentary silence. He removed some blankets from his personal bag and used them as makeshift padding. The young Auror sat up against the wall, making sure he had a clear view of the village before falling asleep. Hermione was always envious of Ron's ability to sleep anywhere, and bitterly followed his example.

"What are you going to do now?" Logan asked as Hermione lied down next to the fire.

"What do you mean?" She turned her head towards the masked wizard, looking over her shoulder. He was eating beef jerky. What was with this guy? Despite her suspicions, Logan seemed familiar to her. She gave in to her curiosity to continue the conversation and rolled over, her back now facing the fire.

"To be honest," Logan bit off a chunk of the jerky, "we've hit a dead end. Harry's not here, and we don't have any more leads. What are you going to do?" Logan pulled a blank from the bed of rags and tossed to her. He must have noticed she was shivering, and she took it begrudgingly.

"That doesn't matter," Hermione replied and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. She thought about his question for a moment. He was right about their current situation, but that did not mean she was going to give up. Harry would not give up on them, and neither would she. "I'm going to keep looking and never stop."

"Really?" Logan continued pushing.

"Yes," Hermione said firmly. "I might have to start over and look somewhere else, but I don't care. I refused to give up."

"What is he to you?"

The young witched opened her mouth slightly to respond, but stopped to gather her thoughts. What was Harry to her, exactly? Harry was more than just a friend to her. He had always been there for her and she was always there for him. However, she had not seen him for months, and she has never fully expressed her feelings to him. What would his reaction be when they found him? Hermione pushed her doubts out of her mind and focused on the fact that she loved him. He was the one.

"He's everything to me," Hermione replied coolly as she rolled back over. She closed her eyes, and the young witch finally released how exhausted she was. It was nice to be relaxing and somewhat comfortable. She let the sleep take her to a better place.

* * *

"Hermione," the young witch heard her name called out from the darkness. It was merely a whisper, and she tried to push it out of her mind. Hermione wanted to sleep and dream more about happier times. She had only closed her eyes a few moments ago.

"Hermione." This time the voice was a loud hiss and grabbed her attention. She gave up on sleeping and slowly lifted up her head towards the direction of the voice. It was Ron.

"What?" Hermione asked, agitated. "It's been like five minutes."

"What are you talking about? It's almost morning, get over here," Ron muttered as he waved her over. Hermione let out a sigh and crawled over to him, the blankets and robes still wrapped around her.

"What's going on?" she wondered.

"Just stay quiet," Ron whispered. Hermione peered through the opening between the wall and blanket. She could see Logan standing in the street below; he was near the entrance of the Inn. Two hooded figures stood before him, and Hermione could see the reflection of last remaining stars off their respective masks.

"More Vanguard," Hermione whispered, and Ron nodded in agreement.

"You were ordered to stay away from the temple," the wizard on the left said.

"It's not my fault they found the map, Morris," Logan explained. "You should have done a better job of cleaning up the place."

"But Logan discovered the map," Ron corrected.

"Why did you lead them to the Inn?" the other wizard asked.

"It wasn't that simple," Logan argued. "Don't underestimate them, I warned spectres."

Before the wizards could continue their argument, another hooded figure apparated behind them. The wizard wore dark red robes with a red mask to match. The young witch could see the red tint shining off the mask.

"Logan," the wizard greeted. "Morris, Jacobs."

"Your Grace," Logan gave a low bow. "I was not expecting your presence, or I might have picked a better—" Before he could finish his pleasantry, a spell erupted from the wizard in red's wand and hit Logan squarely in the chest. Hermione watched in horror as Logan was knocked off his feet. She tried to jump out of the window to join him, but Ron held her back.

"But, Your Grace…" Morris muttered.

"Shut up," the wizard in red barked. "Enough, I am tired of your games, Logan. The spectres tell me you were the one leading them."

To Hermione's relief, Logan began to move. When her body lost its tension, Ron released his grasped on her shoulders. The masked wizard slowly forced himself onto his feet and brushed the snow off of his robes. "What games would that be, Your Grace? I wasn't aware you had spirits watching over me. I feel so blessed." Logan chuckled as he pulled out Hermione's wand from his robes. Hermione looked down at her robes and frantically searched for her wand, it was not there. He took it again.

Morris took the offensive first. Jets of light shot through the air, but failed to make contact with Logan. The masked wizard deflected each spell with great ease and then repelled one with the shield. The spell was launched back at its caster, and it hit Morris' legs, lighting his robes on fire. The wizard screamed in agony as he fell to ground rolling in the snow to extinguish the flames.

Then Jacobs picked up on the slack and attacked with much greater veracity. Logan's shield quickly shattered into little pieces, but again, he was able to deflect each spell. However, he was starting to lose concentration due to the strain on his body. Every time he whacked a spell away, he would take a step backwards. Jacobs laughed hysterically as he allowed his hubris to grow.

"What's so funny?" Logan shouted and started to dance around the spells. He leg was obviously feeling better and his moment of weakness was an obvious ploy to put Jacobs off guard. Logan's body moved with the fluidity of water as he dodged each spell. With a single spell, Logan disarmed his enemy. Jacobs looked at Logan and then his empty hand. Before he could make a move, another spell hit him in the chest, sending him flying into the darkness.

"Ridiculous," the wizard in red grumbled. "Time to end this." With a flick of his wand, Logan began to scream in agony as he crumbled to his knees. He dropped Hermione's wand and cupped his head in his hands. The white mask burned red as it tortured its bearer. With Logan immobilized, the wizard in red unleashed fiendfyre on his wounded enemy. The cursed fire exploded from his wand, taking the shape of a charging boar.

"You can't," Ron grabbed Hermione again before she could jump out.

"Why not?" Hermione cried out.

"You don't have a wand, he has it."

"And what about you?"

"Damn it," Ron muttered as he pulled out his wand. However, it was too late for the young Auror to interfere. It was an amazing sight. Before the boar could make contact with Logan, it broke into two pieces, wrapping around him as if there was an invisible wall surrounding him.

"Impressive, I knew there was more to you," the wizard in red remarked. Logan was able to gain control of the cursed fire and sent it into the air in the form of a dragon taking flight. It exploded in the night sky, illuminating the entire village. The wizard in red lifted up the sleeve of his robe and unbuttoned his cuff, revealing his own gauntlet.

"Now that's not fighting fair," Logan joked as he pressed a handful of snow against the mask to cool it.

"What happened to yours? I hope you didn't lose it."

"Of course not."

"To be honest, I figured the golem would have killed all of you when I found out what you were doing." The wizard in red began to play with the fire he was creating with his hand.

"Well, we kind of destroyed it."

"Wait, Logan lied to us," Ron whispered.

"But why?" Hermione asked.

"Do you really think he was trying to kill us?" Ron responded with his own question.

"Doesn't matter," the wizard in red replied to Logan. "Thing was damaged goods."

"I know," Logan answered.

The wizard in red remained silent. "How do you know?"

"Simple, I was there," the mask wizard replied coolly.

"Impossible. Both intruders were killed by the rampaging golem."

"Your men were half right. Only one of us died that night, the other continued the mission."

"Do you think?" Ron muttered, but Hermione refused to answer him. She did not want to finish the train of thought. They both knew that Logan was Harry's traveling companion. If Logan was alive, that could only mean Harry was the one who died in the temple. If Harry were dead, why would Logan drag them along on this wild goose chase? For the "mission?" For personal enjoyment? Hermione could not help herself as these thoughts rushed through her mind. Her only reaction was the vomit, but she held it back.

"I will be happy to rectify that," the wizard in red lifted up his gloved hand. The air around his him began to swirl violently and converged around his closed fist. The energy emitted form his gauntlet created a vortex and he launched it like a cannon. The air collided with Logan, hitting him in the chest, but he managed to keep his footing by taking a step back to brace himself. Hermione let out a short scream and Ron was too slow to cover her mouth.

"Who's there?" Instead of waiting for a response, the wizard in red pointed his weapon at the Snowflake Inn and started to fire off "rounds." Hermione and Ron ducked for cover as the wall was decimated in an instant. Brick and dust covered their bodies, but they came to no harm.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, I think so," the young witch responded.

"Who's there?" the wizard in red asked again. "I am tired of these shenanigans." He was answered with laughter. Hermione and Ron exchanged looks, neither of them was laughing. They slowly sat up and saw that it was Logan who was laughing.

"I'm sorry, but did you just say…" Logan said in a mocking tone, "'shenanigans?' Really?" He failed to stifle his enjoyment.

"Enough," the wizard in red shouted.

"I agree," Logan replied. "I'm tired of this charade. This thing can be quite the bothersome. Also, the jinxes and curses on this thing are simply mediocre." He pulled out another wand from his robes, liar, and pressed the tip against his mask. The mask shattered into tiny pieces, the face behind it brought Hermione's heart to a stop. She knew he was hiding something from her and she just realized what he was keeping from her. How stupid could she have been? All the signs were there, yet she failed to see it. It was like one of those reveals or "surprise" twists she often read about in her mystery novels. The brightest witch of her age fell victim to the con.

The man behind the mask was none other than Harry Potter. All one had to do was trim the hair out of his eyes and shave the grungy beard. However, he appeared much different since she last saw him. It was not he hair, but the look in his face and eyes. Despite the physical distance between them, she could see the scars and experiences in his demeanor. Harry had definitely matured over the months and he was certainly a different person. And the young witch was going to make him pay for the pain and stress he put her and Ron through.

"Now," Harry said with a bright smile on his face, "lets finish this."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry about the long delay, been busy, but there is more to come very shortly. This story can finally get on its way! Happy face. :)_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Harry liked the cool wind that rushed past his fast. It was a strange sensation to have the wind press against his cheeks as his hair danced cheerfully in the air. He still needed a haircut. It had been a long while since he had this kind of fun and adventure, despite the fact he was on the job. The roof of the train car shook as it rode along the tracks. He turned his head and saw the man he was chasing run and jump frantically across the rooftops of the train cars. The Auror could hear the horn blaring in the distance and see plumes of smoke rise from the coal engine.

"Harry," a voice cried out from beneath him. Harry looked over the edge of he roof and saw Hermione leaning out from the back door of the caboose. "This is crazy and feels so cliché for some reason." Both her hands grasped tightly on to the poles of car. Her knuckles, and face, were white. Her hair was not as bushy and uncontrollable like it was when they younger, but the wind did have fun torturing her it.

"I know," Harry did not even try to hide his enjoyment. "It's this exciting? C'mon, lets get him." The Auror crouched down and extended an open hand to his love. The young witch bit the bottom of her lip as she contemplated her choices, but gave in and took his hand. Harry pulled her up onto the roof and helped her onto her feet. "You good?"

"Yes," her voice was shaky. "Where is he?"

Harry pointed at the small figure in front of them "He's over there." The man managed to create a gap of five car lengths between them, but he had barely covered a third of the train. It was strange for a transport train to be so bloody long.

"Wow, he's quick." Hermione yelled into his ear.

"I know," Harry shouted back as he took off after the suspect. Before jumping the gap between the caboose and the car in front of him, he looked over his shoulder for moment to see that Hermione was close behind him. The Auror was happy he had her covering his back, and he had a strange gut feeling that this was going to be more difficult than expected.

"Why are we chasing after him again?" Hermione asked, her words almost covered by the torrents of wind and whaling horn.

"We can ask him after we catch him," Harry replied playfully as he crossed over another gap. The roofs of the cars shook continuously, but that did not slow him down or frighten him. The cars were relatively wide and the roofs were leveled, providing an adequate surface if were to trip and fall. He could hear Hermione yelp and curse as they made their way up the train, even though she was in no immediate danger.

"That is really backwards thinking," Hermione argued.

"What do you mean by that? I'm looking forward to future."

"Were chasing a man for the sake of chasing him. Doesn't that concern you? We were ordered to simply observe and investigate."

"We are allowed to act on our own discretion."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Not my fault he ran."

"Yes, yes it is. You drew your wand on him and threatened to sacrifice his children in the name of bloody Merlin!"

"It's an interrogation technique."

"And why did he need to be interrogated?"

"You're just ruining the fun, now. I knew I should have brought Ron along instead."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing!" Harry was not being serious, he knew Hermione was aware of this, but he could not help himself. It was just a jest. This was their way of flirting and showing appreciation for each other. Hermione was his best friend and love, and he was the same to her.

"Look out," Hermione grabbed Harry's robe to stop him. A top hatch of the car they were on opened up. A man popped his head up and he was wearing a Vanguard's mask. Harry did not hesitate for a second and took immediate action. He drew his hand and hit the unsuspecting wizard with a stunning spell. The small door fell shut as the wizard disappeared back into the car. Hermione followed suit and sealed the hatch with an enchantment.

"Thanks, love," Harry cooed as he continued their chase.

"So you keep telling me," Hermione replied, he could see her smile through the back of his head. However, the little distraction with the random wizard cost them. They made great headway in terms of catching up with their suspect, but the man had returned into one of the cars while they were occupied. Harry did not waste any time as he jumped down from the roof and descended towards the door of the car in front of him. With a flick of his wand, the door flew open before he could collide with it. The Auror landed on his feet and braced himself like a cushion when he felt Hermione land against him.

Before the couple could make their way through the cargo transport, the door opposite of them opened up. Two Vanguards were standing in the doorway with their wands drawn. Harry did not wait for them to make the first move. He quickly went on the offensive and would not allow them to get the upper hand. Hermione followed suit and they quickly fell in sync with each other. Harry was the sword while Hermione was the shield in this combination. The two Vanguard wizards were dispatched in a matter of seconds.

"Any idea of where he is?" Hermione asked as they jumped over the two unconscious bodies.

"Not yet," Harry replied as they carefully entered the next car. The contents of the transport were certainly strange and bewildering to the mind. He was finally at a loss of words, and Hermione would poke fun at him for days, but the containers distracted her too. The young wizard stopped for a moment so he could digest the scene before him. However, when Hermione bumped into him, his trance was broken, and he was returned to his senses.

"What was that?" Hermione asked as she shut the door behind them.

"I have no idea, 'Mione," Harry responded, his voice was hollow.

Harry peered through the windows of the door ahead of him. He managed to catch a glimpse of the wizard's robe being pulled up. The man was climbing back onto the blood roof. Instead of moving through the car, Harry wasted wanted to waste no time and quickly ascended the ladder beside him. He hid his smile from Hermione when he heard her curse their misfortune. Before he could get his body over the edge of the roof, he looked forward and realized the train was entering a tunnel.

"Stay down," Harry ordered as he quickly lowered his body below the threshold of the tunnel. He could feel the wind and stone rush over his head as the train entered the hole beneath the hill. Hermione quickly dropped back to the wooden floor of the car to give Harry enough space. The Auror was thankful for Hermione's fast reflexes, in more ways than one.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked him as the darkness of the tunnel consumed them. Even though Harry could barely make out her face, he leaned down and gave her soft kiss as his response. Her lips tasted sweet and a faint aroma of cinnamon clung to her hair. The witch was little more enthusiastic than he, but she quickly pulled herself away before the excitement and adrenaline could take over her senses. When their car exited the tunnel, Harry was already standing up on the roof.

"Ooh, I see him," Harry shouted as he pointed in the direction of their suspect. The wizard was on his stomach, clinging to the edges of the roof. Poor man must have had quite the fright. Harry took advantage of this opportune moment and started vaulting across the train cars to shorten the distance between them as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, the man had some kind of sixth sense. He lifted up his head and looked over his shoulder in time to see Harry rushing for him. The man again took flight.

"Bloody hell," Hermione cursed loudly.

"He certainly knows how to run," Harry laughed. "You have to give him that.

"I'll give him a beating, that's what I'll give him."

"Hey, no 'donnybrooking' when on top of the train."

"That's why I'll throw him into one of the cars."

"Sounds like my kind of action," Harry quickly jumped over one of the gaps, but he failed to notice the bending in the tracks. The cars shook as they changed directions and cause the Auror to misjudge his step. He fell between the openings, but managed to catch the edge of the roof of the next car. His arms clung to the wood while his legs kicked furiously in the air, as if they were trying to find the invisible steps beneath him. Hermione got a running start and launched herself over him. What a woman. The young witch grabbed onto the back of his shoulders and mustered all her strength to pull him onto the roof.

Harry tried to flash her smile to show his gratitude, but instead pushed her hard onto her back as a jet of light whizzed by his face. He looked up and saw that the wizard was no longer running, but was now on the offensive. Before his next spell could hit them, Hermione quickly deflected it with a wave of her hand. Her speed often amazed him.

"Way to catch us of guard," Harry shouted when he pulled out his own wand to engage the wizard. The exchange of spells lasted for several minutes, but they were getting nowhere. It appeared that neither of them could end the duel, and Hermione became impatient.

"Enough," the young witch pushed Harry aside with her shoulder and sent a spell at the man's feet. The iron beneath him rusted while the wood began to rot and erode. The roofing quickly collapsed due to the wizard's wait, causing him to fall through into the car. Hermione took the control of the chase and dropped into the hole she created with Harry close behind her.

It was a passenger car, but lucky for them, it was empty. There was no risk of collateral damage and the booths provided them with adequate cover and protection. The fight immediately continued Harry entered the car. While the wizard across from them was at a disadvantage, the chairs negated it. They were once again at a stalemate.

"Any ideas?" Harry asked as he deflected a hex and took cover behind a chair.

"Um, no," Hermione responded as she tried to push forward.

"Brilliant," Harry smiled. Before the Auror could say anything else, a jet of light collided with the booth in front of him. It produced a massive explosion and ripped a giant hole in the side of the passenger car. The vacuum was created by the hole pulled Harry out of the car and into the open air.

"Harry!" Hermione cried out in horror as she watched him exit the train unwillingly. Harry looked at her and then at the ground below him, however, there was no ground for him to land on. The track the train was riding along was built along the edge of an ocean cliff. He was not sure if this was a good or bad thing. Then the Auror suddenly focused on the deep blue waves crashing against the sharp black rocks beneath him. This was definitely bad.

The young wizard bent his neck upward and saw that the train was moving along without him. The passenger car he was recently thrown out of was in the distance. He could see the flashes of light from their spells peak out from the hole and windows. However, he needed to return his attention to situation at hand. The Auror put his wand into a pocket inside his robes to keep it safe. With his arms extended and legs held together from knee to toe, Harry took a diving formation. The surface tension of the ocean was easily broken and lessened the pain of initial impact.

"Merlin's beard," Harry gasped for air. The water was freezing, but the waves were luckily calm, making it easier for him to tread. He looked at the cliff above him and could barely see the train, but it was already gone. He could hear the horn of the train in the distance and see the smoke from the coal engine dissipate. Hermione was left alone to fight that man. He had to find a way back to her, but the problem was, how?

"Harry," a voice called out to him. The young wizard turned his head towards the direction of the voice, but he failed to find its source.

"Harry," the voice called out again. Harry looked frantically, but could not find its owner. Then he spun around in the water and saw Ron. What was Ron doing here, of all places? And how was he standing on the surface of the water? His friend was standing on the water as if it were solid ground. Harry stared at him carefully, and realized that Ron was not looking at Harry. He was looking past him.

The Auror looked over his shoulder and followed his gaze. The ocean was miraculously covered in fresh snow. The realization and strangeness of this reality hit him. He noticed too bodies in the distance. One was on the ground while the other was hunched over it. The person on the lying on the ground was he, Harry, and it was Hermione who was bent over him, screaming his name.

"Is he alright?" Ron called out as he ran towards them. Harry looked down at his feet and saw he was wearing boots covered with snow. The ocean had transformed into Winter's Crest and they were right outside of the Snowflake Inn. Harry examined his robes; he was dressed for the winter. The Auror slowly walked over to his body and two friends.

"Harry, please wake up," Hermione pleaded. Tears rolled down her face and dripped onto Harry's. It was a strange sensation. It was like déjà vu, but it lacked the feeling of coincidence. Was this some strange dream he was living? The train felt so real. His love for Hermione felt so real. However, his confidence was shaken when this reality became more "real." He could feel the tears land on his face, yet it was not wet.

"C'mon Harry," Ron muttered.

Then Harry started to shiver as his body temperature began to drop. He rubbed his arms and sides to warm his body, but it was not working. It was a fruitless effort. The young wizard closed his and felt the world around change again. The ground beneath him was cold as ice and the tears that rolled down his cheeks were freezing. He could feel the warmth being admitted from his two best friends. While his bones felt like hardened glass and his muscles and joints were sore, his body became revitalized against the soft snow beneath him. The voices that were calling out to him fueled his drive to come back to reality.

"Harry," Hermione whispered this time. "Please wake up. Don't leave me again."

"I don't plan too," Harry groaned. He took a deep breath, the chilly air burned his lunges, but he was thankful to be breathing. The pain just meant he was alive. He slowly opened his eyes. The world around him blurry and lacking definition, but he recognized Hermione's beautiful face through the haziness. "Last time I saw you, I was falling out of a train…"

"What? A train? Harry, you just died," Hermione cried out hysterically. There was a mixture of joy and terror in her voice.

"Again." Ron added.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Neville just received the owl he had been waiting for months: Harry was back in London. Whatever he did up north, near Scotland, it was finally done, at least that is what he hoped for. Ever since Harry left London, he frequently sent Neville owls. The messages detailed his secret missions and often asked for information about artifacts, history, and people. Many would have found research boring, but Neville always enjoyed it.

The taxicab swerved violently as it made its way through early morning traffic. "Bloody rain," the cabbie cursed. Yes, it was raining again, and yes, Neville forgot his umbrella.

"Sir," Neville replied as he slid across the backseat. "Could you please drive a little slower? I'm not used to riding in automobiles."

"What?" the driver scoffed. "You live in London don't you?"

"Of course," Neville said, "but I usually don't travel by automobile."

"What are you talking about? Then how do you get to work?"

"Well," Neville began, but paused to think about his answer. "I usually take my tricycle."

"W-what?"

"Sorry, I meant bicycle."

"You one of those hippies?"

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Never mind, we're here…" the cabbie braked hard and put the car in "Park." He then pressed his face against the glass to get a better look of Neville's destination.

"Um, yes," Neville replied as he adjusted his tie. "Thank you." He opened his wallet and took out exact change for the ride. Before giving it to the driver, Neville remembered to gather a few extra bills for the tip, as instructed by Hermione. The cabbie took it happily and waved him out of the taxi.

Neville's destination was a construction site that was put on hold, indefinitely. The condemned department store was no longer a viable cover for St. Mungo's Hospital. A few months ago, a Muggle official came across the paper work for the building by accident and realized it was deemed unfit for use. Thus the red-bricked building was demolished a week later, but the hospital itself was placed in a protective shell and temporarily moved.

This time around, the Ministry decided a construction site would be a better cover. It provided similar protection from ignorant pedestrians and drivers, but it also deterred undesirables from using its facilities for personal use. Neville lost count of the number of Muggles that had their memories wiped, because they wandered into the hospital by accidentally entering into the right window. The paperwork always went through his desk.

The construction site was effective, but Neville wished the Ministry had picked a better portal. He brought up the sleeve of his jacket to his nose to protect it from the awful smell. The horrible smell. The new portal was a plastic porta potty. Of course, it was a Muggle invention. The door was locked from the inside and an enchantment was used to create the horrible odor to scare Muggles away. However, with the flick of his wand, the door unlocked.

Neville did not waste time. He quickly entered the portable toilet and closed its door. With a turn of the lock, there was a bright flash and the young wizard was transported to the hospital. Neville stepped out of the small doorway and into the reception area of St. Mungo's Hospital. He walked up to Inquires desk and greeted the Welcome Witch with a, "Hello."

"Raining?" the witch asked without looking up from her desk. She was reading a magazine, but Neville could not see what the article was about since it appeared blank.

Neville ran his hand through his wet hair. Water sprayed from his drenched curls in every direction. The witch quickly raised her reading material to protect herself from the water. "Sorry," he apologized immediately.

"For whom are you looking?" she asked.

"I'm looking for Harry Potter, he checked in earlier this morning?"

"Yes, P," the witch mumbled to herself as she turned the page of her magazine, another blank page. "P… P is for Potter… He's on the fourth floor. Sixth door on the right."

"Are you sure?" Neville asked. "You didn't do look anything up."

The witch stopped reading and looked up at him. Neville wanted to jump back, scream, and cover his eyes. Both of her eyes were pale and hollow. Despite her blindness, Neville felt her eyes staring deep into his soul. A cold chill ran up his spine and goose bumps formed up his arms. "I'm pos-i-tive…"

"S-sorry," he conveyed his remorse. "I'll be going now." He quickly bolted for the stairs before she could respond. The stairway was enormous. The structure was constructed of marble steps and obsidian pillars. The Magic community loved to show off whenever it could. Even more amazing was the number of witches and wizards that populated the stairway, yet traffic flowed quickly and smoothly.

However, it took a while for him to navigate the stairs, but Neville managed to find Harry's room on the fourth floor. He gripped the knob of the door slowly. The brass was cold against his palm. It was a strange sensation. Was it the metal in his hand or the tensions and expectations waiting for him behind the door? The young wizard turned it carefully and pushed the door open. The first person he saw in the room was Ron. He had his back leaning against the wall of the room.

"Hey, Neville," Ron greeted him by waving an apple with a mouth-size bite in it. His hair was well groomed, but his attire told a different story. His clothing beneath the clean cloak was disheveled and the bandages he wore peaked out from his collar.

"H-hey, Ron," Neville mumbled as he entered the room. To his right, he saw Hermione sitting in a small chair next to Harry's bed. Hermione appeared to be in better condition than Ron. Her hair was braided into what looked like a ponytail. She too was wearing a cloak, but her attire was more Muggle than witch: a blue blouse with ruffles and a white skirt, which were both nicely ironed. However, the spine of her book in her hands was full of creases, and several corners of pages were bent in odd angles.

Harry on the other hand was unconscious, but seemed comfortable in his bed. While there were several layers of bandaging wrapped around his head, his hair still managed to stick out. His beard had grown much longer as well.

"Neville, it's good to see you," Hermione placed the book on the small table beside Harry's bed and walked up to Neville to hug him.

"You too, Hermione," he returned the hug, awkwardly.

"How is he?" Neville asked as he followed Hermione back to her chair.

"He's doing much better since we brought him here," Hermione replied coolly when she took her seat.

"What happened to him?" Neville wondered.

"He died again," Ron answered him. "Don't worry, he was dead for like a minute or two."

"What? How did that happen?"

"He got in a duel with these masked—" Ron tried to continue.

"The Vanguard?" Neville interrupted him, but realized he should not have. The room went silent. It was certainly an awkward moment, one he had not had in a long while, and he hoped to end it as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, he did not know how.

"Neville," Hermione stood back up from her chair and started walking towards him as Neville took several steps back. However, she was not walking, she was stalking him like a lioness and he was the wounded gazelle. Bullocks. "How did you know that?"

"L-let me ex-explain," Neville stuttered. His hands were up in a defensive position.

"Please do," Ron said flatly as he took another bite from his apple.

"I was helping Harry on his secret mission of treasure hunting and espionage," he gasped. This stopped Hermione's advance, he was thankful.

"You've been helping Harry?" Hermione pushed the subject. "For how long?"

"For a few months now."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because he told me not to. He didn't want to worry you two."

"Of course not," Ron jumped back into the conversation. "That's when you tell us, Neville."

"I had to keep it secret. I'm sorry, but I promised him."

Hermione eyed him for a moment, with her eyebrow cocked. He watched her analyze his statement for several excruciating seconds. "Fine. Apology accepted." The young witch returned to her chair again.

"Do you know who 'Your Grace?' is? That's what they called him at least. He was dressed in all red," said Ron.

Neville thought long and hard. "He's one of their leaders, that's all I know."

"That's it?" Ron took another bite of his apple.

"That's all Harry told me. I think he might be some Muggle official if that means anything."

"What do you know about the Vanguard?" Hermione wondered.

"Not that much actually," Neville answered her. "Only that they're from the continent."

"What do you know, Neville?" Ron asked.

"Harry asked me do research for him."

"What kind of research?"

"Well, there was a glove."

Hermione frantically opened her bag and pulled out the gauntlet. "Like this?"

"Yes," Neville replied. He walked over to her and picked up the gauntlet. Even though he spent hours of reading and researching, Neville had never seen one or touch one. It was strangely warm to the touch. The young wizard was tempted to put it on, but he managed suppress his curiosity. "Did you actually see Harry use it?"

"Yeah," Ron's mouth was full of apple. "It was really wicked."

"Brilliant," Neville whispered to himself. "Did _this_ do _that_ to Harry?"

"No," Hermione replied. She returned her attention to the unconscious wizard by taking his bandaged hand in both of hers. "It was the Wizard in Red. He had his own gauntlet."

"Wow, what happened with Harry's?"

"He didn't use his in the duel," Ron answered him.

"What? Why?" Neville blurted.

"He left it with us," Hermione mumbled. "I think he overused it when he was fighting the golem."

"What, you guys battled a golem?"

"Yep," Ron replied confidently. "And I defeated it."

"By decapitating it with an ancient, elf statue," Hermione said angrily.

"Don't mind her," Ron shrugged, "she's been hounding me about it since we returned."

"Anyways," Hermione continued, "He just overpowered Harry. The Wizard in Red won with pure strength and Harry didn't stand a chance."

Before Neville could say anything else, there was a knock at the door. A Healer entered the room. The young witch was dressed in lime green robes and had a big smile on her face. "I'm sorry for interruption. You have an owl, Mr. Longbottom, it's from the Ministry."

"I'll be right back," Neville joined the Healer in the hallway.

"Just over there," the Healer directed him to the end of the hallway and continued on her way. Neville started walking towards the messenger's office when he noticed Mrs. Robinson traveling in the opposite direction. She was Shacklebot's personal assistant and one of Neville's superiors. Whenever she didn't want to do paper work, he was stuck with it, which was often.

"Hello Mrs. Robinson," Neville greeted her.

"Hello, sweetie," she smiled warmly.

"What are you doing here?" the young wizard asked her.

"Oh, you know," Mrs. Robinson padded her purse, "just visiting family. I have a cousin that's been a little ill. Are you here visiting friends?"

"Yeah, Harry Potter."

"Oh my, why isn't that fascinating. Well, I better not keep you waiting, dear."

"Okay," Neville said as she continued down the hall. He stopped for a second and turned back around. She already mingled with the crowd of people. If her cousin was ill, why was she on the fourth floor? This floor was designated to addressing injuries caused by spells, hexes, and jinxes. What was she up to? Before he could take a step back to Harry's room, that part of the hallway exploded. The shockwave from the explosion sent Neville flying backwards. He landed hard on his back, but managed to protect his face from the flames and debris with his arms.

The young wizard sat up slowly, using his burned arms as support, and was horrified by what he saw before him. There were dozens of wizards and witches on the floor. They were severely injured, but none appeared to be dead. Thank Merlin. The hospital wing was also cluttered with fire and debris created by the explosion. Neville forced himself onto his trembling feet and pulled out his wand from his burnt robes.

* * *

_A/N: From now on, I'll be releasing the following chapters once a week. Recently uploaded a bulk of chapters in a short period, because I had drastically fallen behind. Anyways, definitely more to come, and I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter!_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Ron took the last bite of his apple as Neville left the room with the Healer. He wrapped the core in a small tissue and tossed it in the garbage can next to him. Hermione had returned to her book while she continued to hold Harry's hand. Ron couldn't help but smile. He was truly happy for his best friends.

While he and Hermione seemed like a good fit when they attended Hogwarts, they could not keep that spark going. Opposites may attract, but that doesn't guarantee a happy relationship. They often got into arguments over the smallest of things and kept many secrets from each other, especially Ron due to his work. It did not help when Hermione decided not to become an Auror. However, they would remain best of friends, and he was content with that. Now he just had to find someone… Luna? No, he was fine with crazy, but not that kind of crazy. Lavender refused to speak to him; despite the fact he was considered a hero. Then Ron realized he did not have that many friends that were girls besides Hermione and Luna. He would have to work on that.

As his mind frantically worked on remedying his personal problem, the door to the room opened. He looked up at the door, expecting to see Neville. However, instead, a middle-age witch, her purse held tightly to her stomach entered the room. "Uh, hello, and you are?"

"I'm Mrs. Robinson," the witch replied.

"What do you need?" Hermione suspiciously asked.

"I have a message for all of you," Mrs. Robinson flashed an evil smile. A thin layer of smoke rose up from the collar of her blouse and swirled around her face as it took form. A white mask materialized. "Danger."

"Hermione, protect Harry," Ron ordered as he drew his wand from his pocket to engage Mrs. Robinson. The masked witch dropped her purse, revealing her own wand in her hand. Ron did not wait for her to cast her spell. He waved his wand across the room, creating a defensive shell around the trio to block any attack. Mrs. Robinson brought her wand up and a giant flash of light erupted from it.

Whatever the spell was, Ron did not have time to see what it was. After the shell took form, he ran for Hermione and Harry. The young witch had pulled out her wand and was creating a second shield around Harry's bed. Ron jumped onto the bed as she finished casting the spell.

The spell that Mrs. Robinson had cast instantly backfired on her. The shell that Ron had created shattered instantly against the more powerful spell. Defense was never his forte, and he was thankful it was Hermione's. The air in the room ignited into brilliant flames and engulfed them, but Hermione's shield kept them safe. Mrs. Robinson did not share the pleasure. The middle-age witch was thrown out of the room as the doorway and wall exploded outward.

"What's going on?" Hermione yelled.

"Let me ask her," Ron replied sarcastically. "Oh wait, never mind. The crazy woman is trying to kill us." Before the fire could take the room, Hermione broke her shield with her wand and created a vacuum. The flames were quickly sucked into the tip of her wand into nothingness.

Ron slowly jumped off the bed with his wand still drawn. Each step he took was careful and deliberate. When he reached the collapsed wall, he could see the damaged caused to rest of the hallway. Several witches and wizards scattered around the floor, but his focus was not on them at the moment.

His attacker, Mrs. Robinson, or at least her charred remains, lay across from him. Her robes were burned black and her mask was completely melted. It was a fate he did not wish to share, but he was happy she was no longer a threat to him, or to his friends. The young Auror knelt down next to the remains and examined them thoroughly.

"Ron, are you okay?" a familiar voice called out to him. Ron turned his head slightly and saw Neville approaching him. His wand clasped in his trembling hands.

"For now," Ron said calmly. He tried to mask the terror in his voice.

"Who is that?" Neville asked.

"She called her self, Mrs. Robinson," he answered. Ron noticed Neville's face turn white. "Did you know her?"

"Yes," Neville muttered. "She was Shacklebot's assistant."

"What?" Ron stood up immediately and grabbed Neville's collar rather forcefully. "She's the Minister's assistant?"

"Yeah," Neville confirmed. Ron released his grasp and padded the collar down to remove the crinkles.

"Okay," the Auror began, "You can't tell anyone her identity."

"You can't be serious."

"I am, Neville. She's the Minister of Magic's assistant and—"

"And you can't be implying that Shacklebot is one of them."

"I'm not, but we can't be too careful right now. Keep him in the shadows about her, for now."

"He's my mentor, Ron."

"I know, and I'm terribly sorry for putting you in this position, but you have to keep quiet until we can figure this out."

Neville nodded as he digested Ron's request. "Okay, I understand."

"I'm going to go check up on Harry and Hermione."

"I'll see if I can help out here."

Ron left Neville in the hallway and returned to Harry's room, which now had a giant hole that almost took up the entire wall. Hermione was sitting on the edge of Harry's bed, with Mrs. Robinson's purse in her lap.

"Most of it's burned up," Hermione said before Ron could ask. She was always like that, thinking a step ahead, the brightest witch of her age.

"I'd imagine, so is Mrs. Robinson," it was an awkward joke at a terrible time. He was not going to dwell on it and neither did Hermione. "How's Harry?"

"He's fine, still sleeping," Hermione replied as she continued rummaging through the purse. "Nothing, it's all been burned up." She dropped the purse on the floor and turned her attention on Ron. Not good. "What did you do?"

"Me? I didn't do anything," Ron defended.

"If you did nothing, why did this whole room catch on fire?" Hermione's hands were placed on her hips, and her head was cocked to the side. He hated it when she did that.

"I don't know. She's the one that cast the spell." Ron pointed at her remains.

"And you're the one who cast a wall trap," Hermione hissed loudly.

Ron stopped for a second to think. "I did?"

"Yes, Ronald."

"So, I did all this? I thought it was a basic protection charm."

"Well, not all of it, but you didn't make things better."

"Is everyone okay in here," the Healer from before asked as she ran into the room. She was also bruised and burned from the explosion, but she was in much better condition than the others.

"Yes, we're fine." Ron said. She nodded her gratitude and continued checking up on the other witches and wizards.

"I think we should check Harry out and take him to one of our flats." Hermione suggested as she started to gather her things that were not burned to a crisp.

"Are you sure?" Ron questioned her as he gathered his things, which were luckily located under the bed during the whole fiasco.

"It'll be easier to protect him," Hermione answered. "It'll also be safer for everyone else."

"I concede. We can take him back to my place, it's closer and protected by enchantments."

"Protected by enchantments?"

"Auror training..."

* * *

Ron pushed the old wheel chair into his apartment after Hermione opened the door. He was having problems maneuvering it through the small doorway, and Harry being asleep did not help. Since Harry kept sliding in different positions in the chair, Ron would frequently stop to adjust him. Hermione was furious with him since he accidently ran Harry's head into the wall when they left St. Mungo's Hospital.

After closing the door of his flat, Hermione pulled out her wand and created her own charms to enhance those placed by Ron months earlier. Then they quickly moved Harry to the couch in the middle of the living room. Harry's head was placed against the armrest and supported it with a small pillow.

"I'll get some food ready," Hermione said and walked into the kitchen.

"I don't have much food," said Ron. Unfortunately, they had no time to eat anything after leaving the hospital. The Healers would not allow anyone to leave the floor until it was thoroughly cleaned. That took hours. Then it took half the day for them to complete all of Harry's discharge papers. The sun had already set when they were released from the hospital.

"I can see by your temple of take-out containers," Hermione grumbled as she opened the refrigerator. "At least you seemed to have adjusted to leaving in the Muggle world."

"Not my fault all the real food is expensive. And can you believe they deliver pizzas at all hours of the day?" Ron exclaimed. He was just too excited. Not many people at the Ministry would be able to relate to his newfound power. Every time he picked up the phone, after a few minutes of talking to a random stranger, food was sent to him. And it was not by owl like his mom's food, but by an actually person, dressed in uniform.

"Yes, Ronald," Hermione replied as she examinded whatever was left in his fridge. "Okay, all you have is butterbeer and what smells like two-week-old lasagna."

"I guess we have to order out," Ron said cheerfully. Hermione popped her head out of the kitchen to shoot a glare at him.

"I'll order," the young witch sighed. "And we're not getting pizza."

"What are we eating then?" Ron asked, a tone of defeat and sadness in his voice.

"Lets getting something a little more exotic," she replied.

"Where am I?" Harry mumbled. Ron turned around and saw that his best friend was finally waking up. He sat up slowly, attempting to get a bearing on Ron's apartment.

"This might help," Ron handed Harry his glasses. "We found them in your robes."

"Th-thanks," Harry hesitated before putting them back on. "It's been a while."

"Since you last put them on or talk to me?" Ron asked coldly. He knew why Harry had to do the things he did, and he had forgiven him when they returned to London. However, just because he was okay with the whole situation did not mean he was not going to have a little fun with his best friend's guilt.

"Look, Ron," Harry began, "I'm sorry. Okay? I couldn't risk putting you in danger."

"What did we do almost on a weekly basis when we were at Hogwarts?" Ron folded his arms.

"That wasn't the same," he argued.

"Almost every adventure we had involved Voldemort, one way or another."

"These people are far more dangerous than Voldemort, and even more devious."

"Well, I'm an Auror now."

Before Harry could respond, Hermione walked into the room. She froze in the archway of the kitchen, her eyes full of tears. The young witch bolted straight for Harry and threw her arms around him. "Harry!"

"Her-Hermione," Harry was quite surprised. "I'm fine. I'm okay. Wait, why do I have a bump on my head." He felt a small bruise on the side of his head.

"Nothing," said quickly.

Instead of immediately responding to his assurances, she extended her arms and pushed her out of his hug. Then she slapped him across the face and hugged him one more time. "We were worried sick about you. Aren't you going to say something?"

"I don't know, am I? Last time I did, you slapped me." Harry put his hands up in a defensive position to dissuade her from slapping him again.

"Do you blame me?" Hermione asked. She adjusted herself on the cushion next to Harry, and waited for his answer, cross-legged.

"Well, no." Harry responded.

Then Hermione slapped him again.

"What the hell, Hermione," Harry rubbed his sore face.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it," Hermione replied and slapped him once more on the opposite cheek. "Last one, I promise."

"I hope…"

"You know you're going to have to explain everything," Ron said.

"Everything," Hermione reinforced.

"It all started when I was working up north under Shacklebot's orders," Harry explained. "I met a wizard by the name of Logan." It was now obvious to Ron to where Harry had picked the name for his cover. It was in honor of his dead friend. Strangely, Ron wished he could have actually met the man.

"We heard whispers of an underground movement led by the Vanguard. It led us to Winter's Crest and that's where we set up shop, at the Snowflake Inn. After a few months of searching, we found that temple. Foolishly, we ventured into the empty ruins. At least, we thought it was empty. Logan and I came across the Vanguard performing some strange ceremony. The ceremony brought the golem we fought to life. And before we could leave, Cromwell discovered us."

"Cromwell?" Hermione wondered.

"That wizard I fought," Harry said.

"The Wizard in Red?" Ron confirmed.

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"At least we have a name, finally," Ron muttered. Before they could continue their discussion, the doorbell buzzed. They sat in silence for a few seconds and just listened to the bell. It was calming to them for some reason.

"I'll get that," Ron opened the door. There was a short man standing in the hallway holding a giant plastic bag of food. The smell was intense and strong, yet appetizing and delicious, causing Ron to drool a little. "Indian food."

"Yes," the short man gave him a weird look. Ron pulled out his wallet and handed the man all the money in it.

"Keep the change," he said as he grabbed the bag from the man. With a smile he turned around and kicked the door closed. He untied the knot of the bag quickly and started placing the plastic containers on the coffee table in front of Harry and Hermione.

"Aren't you hungry," Hermione jested.

"I am," Harry bent forward and opened one of the containers. It was chicken. Tandoori chicken. Both he and Ron stared at the bright orange chicken, salivating. They each grabbed a leg and began eating without remorse.

"You two," Hermione grumbled as she returned from the kitchen with plates, napkins, and utensils. Ron had not even noticed she left the room. It did not matter; he had food in his mouth and soon his stomach would too. It was slightly spicy, and the spicier the better. "Here, use them, please."

"Sorry, 'Mione," Harry said, his mouth full of chicken. They each grabbed a plate and searched the other containers for more food. There was a little bit of everything Ron could ask for and think of. There was chicken masala, lamb and lentil stew, potato curry, rice, and even naan bread. The young wizard was certainly in heaven. Fast food and pizza was good, but nothing was as delicious as this.

"That was really fast," Ron said as he tore at naan with his mouth. He looked over at Hermione and she was giving him the disgusted look.

"Yes," she scooped some of the masala onto her plate. "The restaurant was right down the street and I simply asked for whatever they had ready." She dabbed the naan into the sauce meticulously.

"Brilliant," Harry devoured a lamb chop.

"So you were saying?" Ron asked Harry to continue. The warmness and comfort that the food created in Harry disappeared.

"Right," he put the place onto the coffee table. "The golem came after us. Logan sacrificed himself to save me by forcing the cave to collapse. While he buried the golem, he also buried himself." His words hung for a while. The only sound in the room was Ron's chewing. He could not help it. He was hungry.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione slide across the couch to the point of touching.

"It's okay," Harry gave them a half-smile. "I went back to London and convinced Neville to help me."

"Yeah," Ron muttered.

"We heard," Hermione said.

"Don't blame him, you guys," Harry defended Neville. "I was the one who put him in a uncomfortable situation. After weeks of searching, I managed to infiltrate the Vanguard with the help of a polyjuice potion. Once I established my cover a Logan, the actual 'fun' began."

"What did they have you do?" Hermione had sauce all over her lips and cheeks. She was no longer holding back, she was obviously hungry as well.

"A lot of excavating. That's when we uncovered the gauntlets. There were dozens of them packed in these marble containers. Most of them were delivered to Cromwell, but my team was given a few as a reward for discovering them. After a few more months of digging and researching, I received an owl informing me of your travel arrangements."

"From Cromwell?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Anyone could have sent the owl, and I doubt it was from him directly. He masquerades as a Muggle official when he's not wearing the mask, but I've never seen his face. His job entails historical artifacts and archeological digs, that's why he's able put Vanguard members in charge of digs and excavations."

"Why didn't you tell us you were you?" Hermione asked. She realized she had spread the sauce all over face and quickly wiped it clean with a napkin.

"I was ordered to lead you two in circles. I didn't want to tell you, because I assumed they had spectres watching me, and I was right."

"What are spectres?" Ron wondered.

"They're spirits, similar to ghosts, but they are not bound to a certain object or place. However, they can be difficult to handle at times."

"So, what do we do now?" Ron propped himself on his hands as he leaned back. He was stuffed, happy and content. This was the best way to end a terrible week: a meal with friends.

"We're going hunting," Harry smiled. "I was able to form contacts with some of the Muggles that Cromwell hired."

"Where?"

"One is in Rome. He's a British native by the name of Thomas. The other is an American, Charlie, and resides in Egypt."

"I'll take Egypt," Ron's hand shot up in the air. "I love Egypt."

"Alright then, Ron gets Egypt, we'll take Rome," Hermione smiled.

"Okay," Ron stretched his arms and yawned loudly. "I'm sleepy. Talk about this tomorrow morning? Also, we should probably bring Neville along, we owe him that much."

* * *

_A/N: I've had a big craving for Indian food all month._


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Hermione looked up from her seat and saw the seatbelt light flash. The plane was soon going to land in Rome. She was obviously excited about visiting Italy, but she wished it were under better circumstances. The young witch had remained quiet for almost the entire flight. Actually, she was silent for the majority of the morning as well.

Ron was concerned at first when they woke up, but instantly forgot about it after Harry prepared breakfast. Harry on the other hand, was clearly aware of the reason for her silence and, to her chagrin, refused to ask her about it. About last night. Even when they were alone, or at least whispering distance from Ron's chomping, they never talked about it. Was she going to ask him? She didn't want to. She figured she had done _enough_ last night.

The young witch checked her watch and tried to calculate Ron's travel time. If she was correct, she usually was, Ron was almost halfway to Egypt to meet Harry's contact, Charlie. Neville was supposed to travel with him, but he was delayed due to extra work with Shacklebot. After the "disappearance" of Mrs. Robinson, Neville was placed in charge of almost all of her daily duties. However, according to Neville, he was already doing most of the work. It would be another day or two before Neville could join Ron in Cairo.

She turned her head away from the window since she was starting to become nauseous and closed the flap. Harry was buried in a magazine. His eyes were darting from side to side of the page. However, she'd catch him staring at her every now and then. It was clear to her that he wasn't reading. If he was, his eyelids would be drooping and he'd be yawning more frequently. He had only yawned once and only once the entire flight, and that was when he first opened the magazine.

"I think we should talk about it," Hermione broke the silence, the irritating silence, and startled Harry. He jumped at the sound of her voice, causing him to tear the pages between his fingers.

"S-sure," Harry muttered with a fake smile as he placed the magazine into the pouch of the seat in front of him, Hermione hated fake smiles. "I mean, if you want to."

"Of course I want to," she said quickly. A sense of annoyance and concern was in her voice. The young witch adjusted in the seat to where she was facing him.

"What is there to say, exactly?" He asked, his words were pleading for a response. It was obvious he was treading in unfamiliar waters. Maybe he'd never been in such a scenario with Ginny? Or maybe this was due to the fact that he had been void of any real contact with his friends? Whatever the case, Hermione was not in the mood of leading him by hand, but she'd do it if she had to. Just this once.

"You know what, Mr. Potter," Hermione began, "never mind." She looked out of the corner of her eye and saw despair creep across Harry's face. Of course, he had been away for too long. He couldn't even tell she was being sarcastic with him, at least when he wasn't pretending to be Logan.

"Look," Harry said, "I'm sorry about last night. It's not that I didn't want to…" He was at a loss of words. It was cute, she thought. Sort of. At least he was trying to communicate with her and this was the first step to getting things back to normal. Or whatever one could call normal.

When they were young, their relationship was platonic, except for a number of times. However, she'd always push those moments out of her heart and mind. So in a way, when it came to _them_, Hermione was also treading in unfamiliar waters, or more like flailing. She was beginning to over think things. What was she going to do? What should she say to make everything better? The young witch had to regain her composure and make things right.

"It was awkward?" Hermione didn't know why she said that, but it seemed to have worked. She wasn't testing him, but the young witch wanted to know what he was thinking. This was the best way to generate a genuine response from him.

"Yes," he replied with a half smile. Hermione was now confused. Her plan just backfired. Then Harry noticed the dismay on her face. "No. No. Not that kind of awkward."

"Then what kind of awkward, exactly?" Her eyebrow cocked.

"It's just… We were on Ron's couch…" He tried to explain frantically.

"Ron's couch?" What was he talking about?

"Yes, and he was in the next room…"

Then it hit her. "Oh. Oh my God, Harry, I'm so sorry for putting you in that position. I didn't even realize…"

"No, don't be. It's alright." He tried to assure her. Hermione felt like their roles had instantly switched. She really was flailing.

"Okay, okay."

"Look, I'm not even sure if I'm even ready. It's been a long time, and we've both changed and grown, some of us, maybe for the worst…" Hermione saw the sadness in his face. It certainly had been too long.

"Harry, don't talk like that," she protested. "I know you've been gone for a long time, but you're still a good person."

"It's just," Harry muttered, "I've been living a different life for so long. Sometimes it's hard to remember which person I really am."

"Well, let me remind you," Hermione carefully took his hands into hers. "You're Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and hero of the Second Wizarding War. You're a person that will help anyone in need; you'll even go as far as risk your own safety to do so. You're smart, funny, and kind. And most importantly? You, Harry, are my best friend." Harry remained quiet as he digested the information.

"Th-thanks, Hermione," he smiled softly. "I'm sorry about all of this."

"Don't be."

"Just give me some time. I'll get there."

"I should actually be apologizing to you," said Hermione. "I understand, Harry. Last night, I obviously wasn't thinking things through. I'll give you all the time you need. I just want you know to that I'm here for you, and always will be."

"I know. Me too." Harry leaned over and kissed her on the forehead before taking the magazine out of the pouch. The butterflies in Hermione stomach were gone. However, Hermione had the strange inclination to have a little "fun" with their current predicament.

"Harry?" she purred softly.

"Yes," he turned his attention back to her.

"Did you like it?" Hermione bit her lower lip.

"Did I like it?" He was dumbfounded.

"Yeah. I don't recall you ever saying you liked it." Hermione watched Harry turn bright red.

"Of course," Harry replied quickly. "Of coursed I liked it. I mean… I mean…" He noticed the large grin on her face and realized he was being played. "Very funny." Hermione giggled softly and returned a kiss on his cheek.

"You really are amazing, Mr. Potter."

"I should be saying the same thing, Miss Granger."

At that moment the airplane landed on the tarmac. There were a few bumps on the way down, but it was a relatively soft landing, just like their conversation. It took them about 20 minutes to exit the plane, but Hermione was not complaining. Even though it would take Harry some time to completely embrace their new relationship, he spent every minute in the plane holding her hand. They were in Rome, and they were about to embark on another adventure. Hermione could barely contain herself.


End file.
